Ashes and Remembrance
by Lady Ravenshadow
Summary: FOLKEN FIC -- Bittersweet fic that chronicles Folken Lacour de Fanel's early years in the Zaibach Empire. A tale of love, betrayal, loss and forgiveness. How a lonely young man might have become the cold emotionless Zaibach Strategos.
1. Chapter One

**_Disclaimer:__ I do not own Vision of Escaflowne or any of the characters related to it. I do however claim the rights to all original characters appearing in this work of fiction. This work is solely for entertainment purposes only._**

_Note: Chapter One begins approximately twelve to fifteen months after Folken's arrival in Zaibach_.

**ASHES AND REMEMBRANCE**

_PROLOGUE_

She opened her eyes to darkness. _What happened? Why is it so quiet? Where am I?_ Wincing, she lifted her hands and felt around -- her hands met buttons and levers. _Where . . . think . . . I'm inside a guymelef. I have to get out of here. I have to find the . . . the commander -- yes, the commander. But . . . who?_ Before she could continue any further, the darkness claimed her once again.

Sunlight slanted through the guymelef's visor. The bright rays burned the light-colored eyes that slowly opened. _Where . . . the battle? _Her head throbbed. Painfully she lifted her hands to her head. The fingers of her left hand met with a slight stickiness and as she pulled her hand back, she saw the blood. She started to remember bits and pieces: _The battle -- yes, we were fighting . . . I remember getting hit -- but how long?_ She could see that she was still inside the guymelef. _I need to get out of here. I need to . . . to what? Why can't I remember?_

Forcing her aching body to move, she felt for the controls that would open the guymelef's visor. _Please work_. Her hand found a lever. _Is this the right one? _Her mind was still a little foggy, but she knew that it was. Pushing the lever forward, she heard the sudden release of air pressure as the visor slowly opened and she cried out as the sunlight washed over her. _Gods, it's so bright. I can't see_. Raising her hands to shield her sensitive eyes, she felt a wave of nausea come over her. She sat still and waited for the sick feeling to pass.

She wasn't sure if she lost consciousness again, but it was still daylight when she became aware again. Slowly she dropped her hands and blinked her eyes, but the sun no longer seemed as bright. _I have to get down to the ground._ She didn't want to think of the pain that moving was going to cause. Biting her lip, she grasped the side of cockpit and tried to pull herself forward. She cried out as her bruised body moved. _Just a little more -- please, just a little more._ Trying again, she got the top half of her body out. _Now just slide forward . . . it's not that far down._ One more push and she was sliding down to the waiting ground. She gasped as the breath was knocked from her chest. Breathing heavily, she managed to push herself up on her hands and knees and look around.

Around her was carnage -- wreckage and death -- the remnants of guymelefs, weapons, levi-ships and worse, men. The sickly-sweet stench of death reached her and she started to gag. _How long has it been? How long was I out? I have to get away from here -- I have to get away! I need to find . . . water. Yes, I need to find some water._ She realized that she was suddenly very thirsty. _Okay body, it's time to get up_. Taking several deep breaths, she slowly started the process of getting to her feet. It took some time to get up and even then she had to stand for several minutes trying to catch her breath. _I must have broken a rib or something. It's so hard to breath. I need to find some water and then I need to find . . . what? I need to find someone. But . . . I can't think. What's wrong with me? I can't remember, why I can't remember._

It was dark by the time she stumbled across the small stream. She had long since become numb to the death and destruction that surrounded her. When she reached the muddy bank, she dropped to her knees and stuck her whole head in the water. _Oh gods, the smell. Why does my head hurt so much? _Lifting her head, she took several deep breaths. Cupping her hands, she drank until she thought she would burst. Splashing a few more handfuls of water on her face, she sat back on her heels. _What am I doing here? How do I get home? Home -- where?_ She had an image of a small windowless room with a single cot, then of a large house with climbing white flowers. _Is that home? I don't know. _ She put her head in her hands and felt the tears as they slipped through her fingers. _Why can't I remember? What's wrong with me?_ Crying, she let the darkness take her once again.

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Voices -- she heard voices. _Am I dreaming -- or dying? Probably both. _ Then she heard the voices again. _They're real! There are people here!_

Opening her eyes, she saw that it was daylight once again. She tried to lift her head and call out; but what came out of her throat was not so much a recognizable word, as an almost animal-like cry. She tried again and almost formed what she thought might be a recognizable "help." _Please, please let them hear me._

"Hey, Dorsman! Over here, I thought I heard something."

"C'mon Mikel, it's been three days. The only things here are dead men. Hey, maybe it was a ghost."

_Please let them hear me._ She managed to roll over on her back and tried to call out again. _Please gods, let them hear me!_

"Did you hear that? There is someone alive. Quick -- I think it was over by the stream." 

"Look -- there! The one in gray -- he's moving!"

"Gods -- it's . . . it's a girl!"

"Hold on a minute. Look at the uniform -- it's Zaibach -- some Zaibach scum. Let her rot."

"No, we have to take her back. Any prisoners are to be taken to the garrison – those are the orders. Go call for a litter."

She looked up, but all she could see was a pale blur where the man's face should be. "Hold on girl -- hold on. We'll try to get you some help. Who are you? What's your name?"

_My name . . . my name is . . . what is my name? Why can't I remember? My name is . . ._

_ONE_

"Folken!" The voice pulled him back. "Folken, are you alright?" He knew that voice -- it was Coren's voice. Slowly, Folken Lacour opened his eyes. Yes -- there was Coren looking down at him and he could see the concern on the other man's face. Folken blinked and looked around -- he saw that he was on his knees, his sword lying on the ground beside him. "Yes -- I'm alright -- I think. I just felt light-headed for a moment," he replied slowly. "I think I just need to sit for a few minutes."

"Here Coren, give him some water and let him rest. You shouldn't work him so hard." Folken looked up to see Jindra coming towards him with a canteen. She had removed her fencing mask and sheathed her sword in the harness across her back. She handed the water to him and then bent to pick up his fallen sword. She knelt down beside him, her silver-gray eyes wide with fear and concern. Folken took several long sips from the canteen and handed it back to her.

"Are you sure you're alright? You do look a bit pale. Maybe we should quit for the day," Jindra said as she handed Folken his sword. "It's really warm today -- too warm to slinging swords around anyway. Besides I could use some extra study time this afternoon," she said almost as an afterthought.

"C'mon Jin, haven't you read every book in the house ten times already. All you do is study." Coren said.

"Maybe you should try reading sometime. That is if you can get anything to stick inside that thick skull of yours," she retorted. Folken sighed and sheathed his sword. It looked like fencing practice was over now as Coren and Jindra started arguing between themselves.

Anyone passing by would recognize them as brother and sister, for they had the same coloring: dark reddish-brown hair, fair skin and light eyes. Although there was a physical resemblance, the two had very distinct personalities. Coren may have been the oldest, but Jindra was the more mature of the two. Where her brother had a very open and spontaneous nature, Jindra was more cautious and reserved. But she also had quite a temper and could be very stubborn at times. Coren took great pride in his ability to bait his sister and Jindra fell into his traps every time. Knowing that such arguments were usually short-lived, Folken sat quietly and watched the two.

Coren was awaiting his graduation from one of Zaibach's most prestigious military academies and was anxious for his first assignment. He was considered to be quite handsome, and he knew it. Not that he was overly vain; but he certainly knew how to turn on the charm whenever necessary. Apparently there were many young ladies in the city who had lost their hearts to the sweet smile and sparkling blue eyes of Coren Roh. Coren was also considered to be one of the finest swordsmen in the city and that was why Folken had sought him out and asked him to teach him left-handed combat. It was well known that the outlander was a particular favorite of the emperor and Coren would do everything in his power to make sure that Folken was properly trained; if only to keep his own reputation in tact. Coren's easy going manner and sense of humor reminded Folken a little of his brother, Van, and he was grateful for the man's friendship in this strange city.

After working with Folken for a few weeks, Coren had invited his sister to join them as a sparring partner. Although initially more cautious than her brother, Jindra had been intrigued by Folken's arrival in Zaibach. She had a natural curiosity about the other lands and kingdoms of Gaea. She had tried to ask Folken about his homeland several times only to be curtly rebuffed and so she had let the matter drop. She thought that perhaps the loss of his right arm had caused Folken to leave his home. She was saddened by the thought that such a thing could be true and hoped the friendship that she and Coren offered would help heal some of the sadness and loneliness that she could sense within him.

Folken at first found it very odd to have Jindra join them in the fencing lessons; but he soon discovered that she was quite skilled. Apparently she and Coren had been practicing for years; and although she had no interest in combat, she liked the concentration and skill that fencing required. Jindra was also one of the few non-military women that Folken had seen in the city that wore trousers. They were usually tucked into a pair of boots with a longer, dress-like garment over the top. The skirt of the over-dress was slit up the sides to make movement easier. While Coren followed the current fashion and kept his hair long and pulled into a tail at his nape, Jindra had her hair cut short. It was cut in such a way that it framed her face and accented her eyes. She would never be called beautiful, but she was a pretty girl. She also had a very giving nature and a concern for others that was quite genuine. Sometimes, Folken thought, it was almost as if she could sense other people's feelings and unspoken thoughts. Much to his dismay, Folken had found himself drawn to her quiet, gentle manner. More than once, he had found his gaze following her. Whenever they were together, he seemed to feel a small measure of comfort and acceptance that helped ease his loneliness. Coren and Jindra were unlike anyone else he had met in Zaibach thus far.

Folken found their openness and acceptance of him quite unusual. Coren had laughed and told him that his family was considered by many to be quite odd. For starters, their mother was from Asturia; the daughter of a very rich and powerful merchant family. ("Second only to the Fassa family," Coren had said somewhat proudly.) Her family had been scandalized over her wish to marry someone from Zaibach. "But being the businessman that my grandfather is, he couldn't resist the thought of the trade that could be done between his family and the Empire. So of course he eventually consented and the rest, as they say, is history."

Yet despite his parents love for one another, Coren's mother never could resign herself to living in Zaibach; and so she returned to Asturia for lengthy visits whenever possible. She would often bring her children with her, but only Jindra came to love Asturia as much as her mother. Jindra wanted nothing more than to live in Palas, the capital, and attend the university there. Their mother also supported Jindra in her wish to live in Palas, but for a different reason. "If Jin were in Palas, it would be a lot easier for my mother to arrange a marriage for her with one of the other merchant families or perhaps a knight from one of the better families at court," Coren had confided in him. "Although Jin won't have any of it of course -- you'd think she'd want to get married and have someone take care of her. Isn't that what women want?"

As Folken watched the two of them argue back and forth, he felt a tug at his own heart. _That could be Van and I_, he thought. For despite how things looked now between Jindra and Coren, Folken knew that they were very close and devoted to one another. _Just like Van and I used to be_, he mused. With a sigh, Folken pushed those thoughts from his mind and stood up.

The two stopped their argument as he walked the few steps towards them. "Sorry, but I think I should go back to my quarters for a while. I'll meet you here tomorrow, if that's okay."

"Sure, but . . . look Folken, are you sure you're up to this yet?" Coren asked. "I mean -- I know that you want to learn how to handle a sword with your left hand, but . . . you really shouldn't push yourself. We've only been practicing for a few months; but maybe it's still too early. Besides, I'm the one that will catch it if something happens to you." Folken saw the slightly uncomfortable look on the other man's face as he finished.

"Coren, how insensitive can you be?" Jindra interrupted. "You have all the tact of a horse's ass! I can't believe you sometimes." Before her brother could reply, Jindra pulled Folken by his sleeve and started to lead him away; gathering up their practice gear as she did so. "C'mon Folken, I'll walk back part of the way with you. We'll let Mr. High and Mighty Lieutenant get on with his very busy military career."

"Jin," Coren called out as they started towards the park path, "let mother know that I probably won't be able to come for dinner tonight. All of us High and Mighty Lieutenants have to meet with the academy commandant tonight," he said with a laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow."

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"I'm sorry, Folken. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to be seen with him," Jindra said as they came to the main path that wound through the large city park. She handed him his fencing mask and adjusted the ratty old black satchel that hung off her shoulder. Folken knew that the bag held her sketch pad, pencils and at least two or three books that she was currently reading; Jindra never went anywhere without that leather bag. "He really does mean well, but obviously he wasn't paying attention when our mother tried to teach him some manners."

"It's alright, Jindra. I'm sure that teaching me has put a lot of pressure on him. But I was told that your brother was one of the best swordsmen in the city. I know that I'm pushing myself, but it's the only way. I have to learn to do everything with my left hand now -- writing and sword-handling especially."

Jindra heard the sadness in his voice as he spoke. "Well yes, I know; but from what Coren told me, you almost died. You really shouldn't push yourself so hard." As if realizing what she had just said, Jindra looked away and Folken could see the slight blush that crept over her face. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bring everything up. Sometimes I'm no better than Coren."

"It's okay; I know you're curious. If you want to ask me about this metal monstrosity, then go right ahead." Folken said as they stopped walking and he held out his right arm. Gleaming in the sunlight under his sleeve was the mechanical arm that the Zaibach sorcerers had grafted onto his shoulder. _ Yes, the sorcerers saved my life, but at what cost? What have they made me? Am I something less than human now?_

Folken saw the look that passed across Jindra's face: a mix of pity, fear and curiosity. She shook her head and looked up at him. "No, Folken. I know that it's still hard for you to talk about it -- I can see it in your face. But I'm willing to listen whenever you're ready -- if you want someone to talk to." Blushing again, Jindra turned back towards the path and silently they continued walking.

When they reached the wrought iron gate at the entrance to the park, the pair stopped. Jindra looked down the street and up towards the dark tower that rose into the sky -- the sorcerer's tower. It was a place that parents used to frighten children, "You better behave before they come and take you to the tower," the old nanny used to warn Jindra and Coren when they had misbehaved. If a building could have an evil reputation, then the sorcerer's tower had it. The stories that people told about those that lived there and what they did, used to keep her up at night as a child and afraid to sleep; just looking at it now -- even from this distance -- sent a shiver down her spine. Jindra never thought that she would actually know someone who lived in it. She still couldn't believe that Folken was going to be a sorcerer.

"Try to take it easy, Folken. You're still healing; you should try to give your body time to recover," Jindra cautioned as she turned to face him. "I know that you want to do everything as you did before -- but you have to take it a little easier until you get all your strength back." Folken could see the genuine concern in her eyes and he was touched by it. _What is it about her? Why does she make me feel so . . . I don't know, like she knows what's in my heart? _

Folken felt himself growing a little uncomfortable under Jindra's gaze and he tried to hide it with humor. "Yes doctor," he said with a smile and a formal bow. 

"Now don't you start, Folken! Coren is bad enough lately -- I don't need you on me too."

"Sorry Jindra, but I couldn't resist."

"Well . . . alright, apology accepted."

"Thank you, my lady." Folken bowed again.

"Folken!" He watched the blush that crept across her cheeks as she dropped her eyes. _Now I've embarrassed her . . . she probably thinks I'm the world's biggest fool. _ Feeling his own embarrassment set in, Folken fidgeted with his fencing mask, turning it over in his hands. "I-I-I should be going . . . I'll see you tomorrow."

She looked up at the sound of his voice. "Uh . . . yes."

"Have a good evening Jindra," he replied with a small, sad smile as he turned up the street in the direction of the tower.

"You too, Folken." Jindra watched him walk away. _I wonder what's wrong now -- one minute he's joking and the next he goes all quiet and sad again.__ Who knows – men! With a sigh, Jindra shook her head and then turned in the opposite direction for home._

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As Jindra continued down the street, she looked up at the city around her. Compared to Zaibach, Asturia and Palas seemed quite primitive. Here buildings made of metal, stone and glass rose into the sky. The constant hum of machinery meant that there was never a quiet moment. Everywhere you looked, you could see the science and technology of the emperor and his sorcerers. In her small travels outside the Empire, Jindra never saw anything to compare with the technological wonders of Zaibach. Yes, the emperor's science had made her homeland one of the most powerful countries on Gaea, but it had also made it one of the ugliest in her opinion. Even the parks within the city were different. Everything seemed so perfect and planned out; from the paths and gates, to the types of trees and flowers. It was beautiful, but it was a cold, unfeeling beauty.

Jindra thought back to the first time that she remembered going to Palas with her mother -- she had been four or five years old. She remembered the view from the levi-ship as they landed. She squealed with glee looking at the graceful towers, bridges and canals. Jindra thought that Palas was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Everywhere that she went, she saw something new and wonderful. But as much as the city intrigued her, it was the ocean that had finally taken her breath away. As she had stood on the shore and looked out over the wide blue waters, she knew that there was where she belonged. She decided, that day, that Palas was the most wonderful place on all of Gaea and she was going to live there. She told her mother that she was never going back to "ugly old Zaibach" and that she wanted to stay in Palas. She remembered crying when they had eventually left to return home and she vowed that she would return one day for good. Since that time, she had returned to the Asturian capital for extended stays with her mother's many sisters and brothers. But each time that she returned home, she brought back a seashell, a piece of driftwood or some other artifact from the sea. She kept them in a box to remind her of Palas and of her vow to return there for good one day.

With a sigh, Jindra turned down the lane that led to her family's house. _It's still early_, she thought; _plenty of time to study_. But first she would have a bath and something to eat. As she entered the front door, she called out for her mother. As she waited for an answer, she noticed the mail lying on the table in the foyer. She picked up the envelopes and looked to see if there were any for her. _Yes!_ There was a letter from Aunt Bethanne. Jindra knew that it was an invitation to come and stay with her in Palas. Quickly gathering up her things, Jindra headed up the stairs to her room.


	2. Chapter Two

_TWO_

            Jindra sat on the grass in the clearing waiting for Folken.  She held a book on her lap, but had not read one word since opening it.  With a sigh, she closed the book, then her eyes and turned her face up to the sky.  She didn't know how long she sat like that before she felt a touch on her shoulder and heard Folken's voice call her name.  "Oh, Folken.  I was just studying," she said; blinking her eyes against the sunlight.

            "Studying?  Just what could you possibly be studying with a closed book in your lap?"  Folken asked.  Turning around to face him, Jindra replied, "The sky . . . yes, I was studying the sky."

            "Oh . . . and what did you learn in your studying of the sky?" he asked with an arched eyebrow and a hint of amusement in his voice.

            "That the sky seems bluer and the sun seems to shine brighter everywhere but here -- in Zaibach, "Jindra replied quietly.  Folken saw the sad look on her face and immediately knew that something was wrong.  "Jindra, what is it?  What's happened?  Is it Coren?"

            "Don't worry, Coren is alright -- but he won't be here for practice . . . in fact, I'm not sure he'll be able to continue with your lessons at all."

            "Why?  What's happened?" Folken asked, sitting down next to her.  He set his sword and fencing mask down on the grass between them.

            "Coren came for breakfast this morning.  Do you remember the meeting that he said he had last night -- with the commandant?"  Folken nodded his head.  "Well, it was to receive his first commission.  Coren was given his first commission last night.  He's to report in a week for the assignment."

            "That's good news.  You knew he was waiting.  Where is he going?"

            "I'm not really sure; he didn't give us a lot of details.  I'm sure that we'll find out more later on today," Jindra responded.  Folken heard something more in her voice and he looked at her face -- he could see the tears that she was holding back.  "There's more, isn't there?" he asked gently, putting his left hand on her arm.  "What is it?"

            Jindra shook her head and looked down at the ground, "It's not anything bad . . . it's just that I . . . we . . ." she couldn't finish.  Suddenly it dawned on Folken what was wrong.  He moved his hand from her arm and placed it over hers.  "I think I know what's wrong.  It's because Coren is leaving, isn't it?" he asked her.

            Jindra barely nodded her head and Folken could see her shoulders shake as she let her tears go.  "I-I-I know it sounds stupid . . . but-but Coren isn't just my brother.  He's also my friend -- my best friend.  We've always been together.  I don't know what I'll do without him . . . "she said through her tears.

            Folken didn't know what to say to her, but he knew how she felt.  He and Van had been just as close.  _But that is no more,_ he thought sadly.  _He and I will never be close again._  Folken sat quietly wrapped in his own thoughts, and held Jindra's hand while she cried herself out.

            It was quite some time before Jindra managed to get herself under control and stop crying.  It was about then that she seemed to realize for the first time that Folken was holding her hand.  She could feel the warmth of him through her skin and she felt a momentary fluttering in her stomach.  Blushing, she slowly drew her hand from his and brushed the remnants of her tears away with her fingers.  "Sorry for falling apart," she said with a slight embarrassment.  "I'm okay now, really."

            "Don't be embarrassed," Folken said softly.  "I know the two of you are very close -- it's only natural that you'll miss him."

            "It's more than just missing him, Folken.  Coren has always been my ally against my parents.  My father won't even discuss allowing me to live in Palas; it's hard enough just convincing him to let me visit for a few weeks.  My mother only wants me to go there so she can try and marry me off, "Jindra said angrily.  "But Coren knows how much I love it there -- how much it means to me.  Although he doesn't entirely agree with me leaving my birth country for another, he's always supported me.  He just wants me to be happy.  My parents are just the opposite -- they don't care about my happiness; they only want what they think is best, even if it makes me miserable for the rest of my life."

            Folken thought for a moment.  "It's not like he'll be going away for good; I'm sure that he'll be able to return and visit you."

            "I know that.  It's just that now I won't have him around to back me up anymore," Jindra said.  "I've always been able to rely on him for support.  Now it feels like I'm all alone -- me against the world."  She could feel the tears gathering once again and she tried to blink them back.  Jindra looked up at Folken and she felt her breath catch at the look on his face.  She saw a deep pain that flashed across his features before he was able to mask it once again.

            "Folken, I'm sorry.  I really shouldn't have dumped all of this on you."  After a few moments she added, "Sometimes it seems like all you and I do is apologize to one another.  But I am sorry -- you don't need to hear about my trivial problems."

            "No, Jindra; you obviously needed someone to talk to, and I'm glad that I could be here for you."  Folken replied, gazing back at her. "I'm grateful for the friendship that you and your brother have given me.  You've helped take away some of the loneliness that I've felt since coming here."

            Jindra blushed again under his gaze.  "I-I-I'm glad that you consider us to be friends.  I don't have many friends here and with Coren leaving, that number is getting even smaller.  It's nice to know that you'll be around for a while," she added with a small smile.

            _She has such a beautiful smile_, he thought silently.  Sighing, he pushed the thought from his mind.  "So, I guess practice is off for today?"

            "I hope you don't mind; but I really don't think I'm up for it.  I didn't even bring my sword."

            "No, I understand completely." 

            "Oh, before I forget -- my mother is having a going away dinner for Coren.  I'd -- I mean we -- would like it if you could come.  I'm sure that Coren would like to have the chance to say goodbye.  It'll be the day after tomorrow . . . it won't be a very large party, probably about twenty or twenty-five people; mostly Coren's friends from the academy, friends of my parents . . . you know, the usual."

            Folken didn't reply immediately.  _He's going to say no_, Jindra thought as she watched him.  _He's afraid -- afraid that people won't accept him and will turn away from him.  Such loneliness -- how can he bear it?_  Trying to forestall Folken's refusal, and to lighten the mood a little, she said, "C'mon Folken, you have to come.  I'm even considering wearing a real dress in honor of the occasion.  My mother is giddy over just the mere thought of it.  Besides, Coren will have his little circle of lovesick admirers there hanging on his every word.  You have to see him turn on that revolting charm of his to believe it."

            "Jindra . . . I really don't think that would be a good idea.  I'd like to say goodbye to Coren and wish him well, but it just wouldn't work; I'm sorry.  Perhaps you could deliver a note for me?"

            "Why won't you come?  You're our friend, Folken.  You have just as much right to be there as anyone else.  What are you so afraid of?"  Jindra asked with anger in her voice.  "You can't stand apart from the world for the rest of your life."

            "Jindra, I'm not going to argue with you.  If we argue, then we'll both say things that will hurt each other, and I don't want to do that.  Just please, try to respect my feeling on this.  I'm sorry; but I just can't."

            Jindra looked at his face as if searching for something; she sighed, "If that's how you really feel, then I won't press you.  But if you change your mind, you're more than welcome.  At least think about it."

            "Thank you -- and I will," he replied.  Taking up his sword and mask, Folken was about to say goodbye when Jindra opened up her black satchel and took out a sketch pad and a box of pencils.  "Are you going to draw?" he asked her.

            "Huh?  Oh, no -- not really.  I've already started the drawing -- it's for Coren.  I'm hoping to have it finished before he leaves.  I have the basic sketch done already; I'm just going finish it off a bit.  I really don't have anything else to do for the rest of the afternoon, so this is as good a time as any work on it."

            Folken had seen a few of her drawings and paintings, and he thought that she was quite talented.  "Do you mind if I stay and watch you work?" he asked.

            "No, but it's not very exciting to watch.  I'm sure you probably have something better to do."  Folken could tell that she was still angry with him although she tried to mask it.  "Actually, no;" he said gently, trying to soften her mood.  "I'd already planned to practice with you and Coren, so I'm free for a while.  I would really like to stay while you work."

            Jindra shrugged her shoulders, "As you like."  She knew that she had been rather curt with him, but she couldn't help it.  She never should have mentioned the dinner to him.  She knew that he would say no, but something deep within her was hoping that he might agree.  _Why?  What's come over me?  I can feel his loneliness . . . his sadness -- and it pulls at me.  I wonder what he was like before he came here. _ Jindra sighed and shook her head.  "This is getting me nowhere," she said softly to herself.

            "Did you say something?" Folken asked her as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

            "Huh? Oh, no -- just talking to myself"

            "What are you drawing?" Folken asked, glancing at the pad.  "It looks like a building."

            "Yes, it's our house," Jindra said as she turned the tablet towards him.  "I wanted to give him something to remind him of home."  Although it was just the beginning sketch, he could see the graceful lines of a house.  "I'm just going to fill out the basic sketch a bit; then I'm planning on finishing it with watercolors.  I think it's going to turn out really well."  Jindra propped the sketch pad back on her lap.

            "Don't you need to see the house while you draw?"  Folken asked curiously.

            Jindra could see that he was genuinely interested and her earlier anger at him subsided a bit.  "Well, not now -- I mean, I have the basic sketch done.  Besides, it's not like I haven't lived in that house my whole life.  I could probably draw it in my sleep," she said with a smile and a small laugh.

            "Yes, I guess you're right," Folken said a little sadly.  "It's hard to forget the house that you grew up in."

            "That's why I chose it," she said.  "This way, Coren can look at it and know that we're here waiting for him and that he always has a home to come back to."  Looking up as she spoke, Jindra was startled by the look on Folken's face.  "Folken -- I didn't mean . . ."

            "On second thought Jindra, maybe I should let you continue your work in peace," he said coldly as he rose to his feet, sword and mask in hand.

            _His eyes are like ice.   Gods, what have I done now?_  Jindra jumped up after him, leaving her sketch pad to fall on the grass.  Folken was a few steps away when Jindra placed her hand on his arm and spoke, "Folken -- please . . . please don't go.  I'm sorry, so sorry.  I didn't mean to upset you; it was very stupid of me.  I know that you miss your home . . .  please don't leave here being angry with me.  I-I-I don't think I could stand it if you went away from here angry with me."

            Folken stopped and looked down at her.  He cupped his left hand under her chin.  He could see the tears welling in her eyes as she met his gaze.  His eyes softened a little as he spoke, "I'm not angry with you, Jindra.  It's just that this . . . this is bringing up memories -- memories I'd rather not deal with right now."  He slid his hand up the side of her face and wiped away a tear with his thumb.  "You don't know how much I envy you and your family.  My family was so close once . . . but I can never have that again.  I can never return to my homeland.  You're very lucky, even if you don't think so."

            Jindra reached for his hand as he took it from her face.  She held it and looked deeply into his eyes.  "Oh, Folken; I look at you and I see such sadness and loneliness.  How can one person live with such loneliness in a city full of people?  I don't want you to be lonely.  I-I-I . . . you . . . I don't know how to say this . . . but you -- you mean a lot to me.  It hurts me to see you so sad.  I just wish there was something that I could do."

            "Jin, you've given me so much with just your friendship.  You and Coren have given me more than you know."  Folken looked down at their joined hands_.  Friendship -- no, it's become more than friendship._

            "Jin.  No one but Coren ever calls me Jin," she said with a small smile.

            He gave her a smile in return, "I hope you don't mind if I do?" he asked.

            "N-n-no -- not at all.  I'd like it very much if you did."  Jindra could feel the blush that crept across her cheeks.

            "Perhaps I should let you get on with your work."  Lifting her hand, he kissed it.  _Yes, it has become something more than friendship.  When did things change between us?  Or have I finally realized the truth that been in my heart all along? _ He watched Jindra's eyes widen.  "I'm sure that you'll be busy for the next few days, before Coren leaves; perhaps we can meet again next week?  Is that alright?"

            "You don't have to leave.  I-I-I really would like for you to stay, "she said a little breathlessly.

            "No, but thank you.  I've been working on a few things myself, and I can use this extra time to check on them.  A little extra studying time wouldn't hurt me either," Folken said, releasing her hand.  "I'll see you next week, okay?"

            Jindra nodded her head, "Folken . . . I . . . I . . ." Without finishing, she stood up on her toes and lightly kissed his cheek.  "You don't have to be alone," she whispered.

            Without another word, she turned from him and walked back to where her things lay scattered on the grass.  Quickly gathering up her belongings, she walked towards the path that led from the park without looking back.

            Lifting his hand to touch his cheek, Folken watched her walk away.


	3. Chapter Three

_THREE_

            Jindra Roh stood alone by the open window and sipped at her chilled wine.  She quietly watched the other guests as they mingled in the conservatory.  The room was brightly lit and the windows had been opened to let in the evening air.  _Mother has outdone herself, _she thought. _ Coren looks so happy.  Why can't I be happy for him?  Because I'm selfish, that's why.  I know Coren has to live his own life, but I just don't want him to leave. _ Jindra was pulled from her musings by the sound of her mother's voice.

            "Jindra dear, have you met Lieutenant Lefebvre?  He's one of Coren's colleagues from the academy."

            _Oh no -- not again.  _She inwardly groaned.  Her mother had managed to introduce her to every one of "Coren's colleagues from the academy" as soon as they had arrived.  _I feel like I'm on display._

As her mother and the young man walked towards her, Jindra put her glass down on a small table nearby and managed a pleasant, but not overly friendly smile.  She took the few moments before they reached her to study the man escorting her mother.  He looked to be about the same age as her brother, was tall, with an athletic build and had long dark hair that was pulled into a tail.  When they reached her, she could see that his eyes were dark blue.  _Midnight blue_, she thought.  _He is quite handsome; no wonder mother latched onto him._

            "No, I don't believe we've met before.  Welcome to our home, Lieutenant.  It's nice to meet you."  Jindra held out her hand to the young man as she spoke.

            He took her hand and gave her a small bow, "Thank you for inviting me; and the pleasure is all mine."  Lefebvre released her hand and smiled as he spoke.  "Coren mentions you so often that I already feel like I know you."  

            "I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not, Lieutenant.  Especially knowing my brother as I do," Jindra replied.

            "If that's the case, then you should know that your brother speaks very highly of you."

            Seeing that the two were getting acquainted, Doreena Roh excused herself.  "Please forgive me, but I must go greet some new arrivals."  Giving her daughter a wink, she moved towards the entry doors.

            "Would you like some fresh wine, my lady?" Lefebvre asked.  Jindra took the arm that he offered, "Yes, thank you; and please, none of that 'my lady' stuff.  I much prefer to be addressed by my name."  The two walked towards the buffet tables at the other end of the room.

            "Jindra, then.  It would please me if you would call me by my first name, which is Anton."

            "Anton.  It's an unusual name.  You aren't from the Capital?" she asked, taking the wine glass that he handed her.

            "No, my family is from the north.  But how did you know?" he asked, picking up his own glass.

            "By your accent -- and your manner; you're a bit more formal than most of the men here.  It's nice to know some of you still know how to behave in society."  Jindra replied as she heard Coren's booming laughter from across the room, "Unlike my brother."  

            "I'm glad that my manners please you.  I wouldn't want to appear uncivilized, especially after being introduced to such a lovely young lady."

            She could feel his eyes on her as she took a sip from her glass.  Feeling the blood rise in her face, she glanced down.  _Why is he looking at me like that?  But Jindra knew the answer to her own question, even as she asked it.  Between the cut and color of her dress, her hair, her jewelry, and a few cosmetics; even she had to admit that she wasn't half bad.  She had said as much to her mother after she had finished dressing.  "Half bad?  Jindra, you look so beautiful," her mother had exclaimed.  Even Coren had looked at her like she was a stranger.  "Where's Jin?  Who are you and what have done with that tomboy sister of mine?" he had joked.  "Really Jin, you look wonderful.  It's my party, but everyone will be looking at you -- it's not fair!"  Jindra had blushed to a deep crimson and shooed Coren out the door.  _Yes, not half bad.  But I feel like everyone is looking at me and I'm not sure that I like it – lovely young lady indeed . . . .__

            "Is there something wrong, Jindra?" Anton was asking her.  "You looked very far away."

            "Oh I'm sorry, Anton.  My thoughts were somewhere else for a moment," she replied, blushing once again.  _What's wrong with me?  Dress me up a bit and I start to act like one of those giddy little air heads of Coren's._  Trying to make up for her lack of manners, she quickly asked, "So how long have you been at the academy?"

            "Almost a year; I hope to receive my own commission within the next eight or nine months.  This has been a great opportunity for me and I hope to make my family proud."

            While Anton was speaking, Jindra saw her brother walking towards them, "Well . . . here comes the guest of honor now." she said.

            "Anton, so glad you could make it," Coren said to the other man as the two shook hands.

            "My thanks to you and your family for inviting me," Anton replied.  Coren moved to stand next to Jindra, "So . . . I see the two of you have gotten acquainted."

            "Yes, mother introduced us a few minutes ago," Jindra said.  _If he embarrasses me, I swear I'll kill him_.  "We were just talking about Anton's stay at the academy."

            "Well, I'll let you in on a little secret:  Anton is on his way to becoming a very fine officer.  His only fault is that he's just too proper and polite.  He really needs to loosen up a bit," Coren said jokingly.

            "Coren, I hardly think that's fair.  Are you trying to give your sister the impression that I'm a stuffed shirt?"  Anton replied, trying to sound offended.

            "See, he just takes everything too seriously.  Well, if anyone can get you to loosen up, it'll be Jin.  She's a good one for bucking convention; aren't you dear sister of mine?"  Jindra could see the mischievous gleam in her brother's eye.  _I'm going to kill him._

            "Coren . . ." Jindra said with a hint of warning in her voice, "I really don't think this is the time or place for this."  She gave him a glare that she hoped would divert him.  "This is supposed to be your party, remember?  You and I can always discuss this later -- much later." She arched her eyebrow at him for emphasis.

            "Yes . . . well, huh . . . by the way, I meant to ask you about Folken -- I haven't seen him.  Didn't you invite him?"

            "Yes, I did . . . but he said no.  He didn't feel comfortable coming.  I'm sure that he'll see you before you leave, he said as much."  Coren could hear the note of regret in his sister's voice.  _Folken?  Nah - Jin's got more sense than that._

            "Well, it's his loss."  Jindra could see that her brother was disappointed.  "I guess I better go mingle some more; I'll see you later."  Coren bowed and left them.  

            "Who is Folken?" Anton asked.

            "He's a friend of ours -- Coren was his fencing instructor.  I was hoping that he would change his mind and come; but I guess not."

            "He can't be much of a friend to decline such an invitation."

            "I-It's not like that.  Folken's just -- just . . . he's not really comfortable in society, that's all.  He's a bit shy."  Anton looked at her as she spoke and he could see the hint of regret on her face as he heard it in her voice.  _Interesting . . .  _ Hoping to focus Jindra's attention back to himself, he asked "Would you like to walk out to the terrace?  It's a lovely night."

            "Uh . . . I -- yes that would be nice."  Jindra again took his offered arm and the two started towards the open doors.

            As they stepped out onto the terrace, Jindra breathed in the fragrant scents from the garden below.  "Too bad it's dark out; my mother's garden is really beautiful this time of year."  She had let go of Anton's arm and was walking towards the stone railing.

            Anton followed her, "Perhaps I could come and see it another time -- during the day."

            "Yes, perhaps you could," Jindra replied as she turned to face him.  "I'm sure that my mother would enjoy showing you around."

            "I'd much prefer it if you would consent to show me around the garden," he said looking at her.  "Jindra . . . I know that we've only just met, but . . ."

            Just then Coren came through the open doors, with another person following behind.  "Hey, Jin -- you won't believe who's here!"  He stopped when he saw the two of them standing face-to-face by the railing.  _Well, well that didn't take long . . . _

            "Coren, who is it?" she asked, stepping to meet him.  As she got closer, she could make out the features of the other person with him, "Folken!  I knew you would change your mind," she grasped his hand and smiled up at him.  "I knew you would come."

            Folken didn't answer right away; he just stood and looked at Jindra, as if seeing her for the first time.  _Beautiful; she looks so beautiful. _ Blinking to clear his thoughts, he said, "I-I-I can't stay long; I just wanted to congratulate Coren and wish him luck."

            Anton saw the look that passed between the two.  _So . . .  this is the mysterious Folken.  But who is he?  It looks as though he's wearing the robes of a student sorcerer . . . most curious._

            Letting go of Folken's hand, Jindra suddenly remembered the young man standing next to her.  "Folken, may I introduce Lieutenant Anton Lefebvre.  Anton is a friend of Coren's from the academy.  Anton, this is Folken . . . Folken . . ." Jindra trailed off.  _I don't even know his full name. _ She looked up at Folken for help.

            "Folken Lacour," he said smoothly, bowing to Anton; "nice to meet you."

            Anton returned the bow, "Well met."  _How serious could it be?  She didn't even know his last name . . . quite interesting indeed._

            Turning to Coren and Jindra, Folken spoke.  "I can't stay -- I only came to wish you luck, Coren.  Please accept my congratulations on your commission."  The two men shook hands.

            "Thanks.  I'm sorry to have to cut our lessons short -- but I'm sure you understand.  Although I will leave you in Jin's capable hands; she's pretty good -- if I must say so myself.  Taught her everything she's knows."

            "You wish!"  Jindra said, turning on her brother.

            "Jindra can sword fight?"  Anton asked Coren.

            "Of course I can," Jindra replied before Coren could speak.

            "But why?  It's not proper for young ladies of your family's standing to fence."

            Coren winced at Anton's words.  _Well, that will set her off for sure.  Guess I should save him though . . . _ "Anton, why don't we go inside and get everyone a fresh drink." Coren said, pulling the other man by his sleeve towards the door.  "Say, have you met the Kaberle sisters yet?"  Jindra and Folken watched the two enter the conservatory.

            "I don't believe he just said that!"  Jindra exclaimed angrily.  "Proper young ladies . . . what does he think I should be doing -- having tea parties and going to balls?"

            "Jin, I'm sure he didn't mean to insult you.  Even I wasn't comfortable seeing a girl with a sword at first.  You have to admit that it isn't common," Folken said trying to placate her.

            "What's so uncommon about it?  There are women in the army -- some of them are even guymelef pilots.  What's the difference?"

            "Well, you don't exactly look like a guymelef pilot dressed like that." Folken replied, gesturing to her gown.  "You look like a proper young lady who should be attending tea parties and balls."

            Jindra turned on him, "Oh, don't you start Folken!  I'm still the same as I was the other day.  It's only this dumb dress that makes me look different."

            "That maybe true; but remember -- Anton doesn't know you, does he?"  Jindra nodded her head.  "You only just met tonight, am I right?"  She nodded again.  "Then you really can't blame him.  He doesn't know you like Coren and I do."

            "I guess you're right . . . but still, it makes me mad."

            "Well, try to go easy on him;" Folken reached out and took her hand, "and Jin, it's not a dumb dress."  She looked up into his face.  "Jindra . . ." Unable to finish, he shook his head and gave her a sad look before letting go of her hand.  After a few moments he continued, "As I said before, I really can't stay.  I just wanted to say goodbye to your brother; I really should be going."

            "You can't go yet, Folken.  You should meet our parents at least," Jindra said touching his arm.

            "No, I-I-I think it's best that I go now.  I really shouldn't have come at all, but I felt that I owed it to Coren to say goodbye in person."

            Jindra took Folken's arm, "Then I'll walk you out."

            "Jin, I don't think that would be a good idea."

            "It's no trouble," she saw the apprehension on his face; "we can go through the garden if you like." 

            "What about Coren and Anton?  They'll be back any minute."

            "I don't care about Coren and Anton.  I can tell that you don't want to go back through the conservatory again; am I right?"

            "Jin, it wouldn't be . . ."

            Letting go of his arm, she spun around to face him.  "What -- proper?  Is that what you were going to say?  Well I don't care about that either.  If I want to walk through the garden with you, then I will."  Looking him in the eye, Jindra then reached out and took Folken's hand -- his right hand; and she saw his eyes widen in surprise.  _It feels so cold -- so strange.  But I want him to trust me.  I want him to . . . to what?  Kiss me?  Maybe . . . I don't know.  I just want to be with him – be near him._

            Gently cradling Folken's metal hand, Jindra looked up into his face.  "Folken, would you allow me to walk you to the garden gate?"  Her voice was soft, "Please."

            Looking down at her, Folken cupped her cheek with his other hand, "I would like it very much."

            Arm-in-arm, Jindra led him down the steps and into the garden.

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            Although the party was mainly inside, torches had been set out along the garden path for those guests that might wish to take a stroll in the evening air.  _Mother thought of everything.  I wonder what she'd think of this.  I'm sure she would much rather prefer that it was Anton._

            "It's such a beautiful night, don't you think?"  Jindra asked as they reached the bottom step and made their way onto the flagstone path.

            "Yes, it is," Folken replied as he pulled Jindra to a stop.  "It seems that there's beauty everywhere tonight."

            Jindra gave him a puzzled look, "Folken -- what is it?"

            "Nothing . . . I-I-I just wanted to look at you.  Y-Y-You -- you really do look beautiful tonight, Jin.  Not that I didn't think that you weren't pretty before . . . b-b-but, it's just -- it's just different . . ." he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

            Jindra could feel the blush that crept up her face and she glanced down.  "I never knew you were such a flatterer, Folken.  Have you been taking lessons from my erstwhile brother?"

            "Jin, do you really think that?  Do you really think that I'm nothing more than idle flatterer?"

            Looking up at him, she answered, "N-n-no, of course not.  It's just that -- I don't really understand what's happened between us.  I-I-I always thought that we were friends, but . . . but now it's all changed some how.  It's not the same anymore . . . it just feels so different . . . I don't know why – I just have this weird feeling inside . . ."

            Folken raised his hand, and touched her face.  "Jin . . . I've felt myself drawn to you since we first met.  There is something in you that calls to me.  I-I-I'm not sure if I understand it myself.  All I know is that I find some peace when I'm with you.  I-I-I like being with you, Jindra . . . I treasure whatever time we spend together.  You-you mean a lot to me . . . more than I ever thought anyone could -- especially since coming to Zaibach."

            As he withdrew his hand from her face, Jindra captured it in both of hers.  "I like being with you, too."  She blushed and looked down for a moment.  Raising her eyes back up, Jindra continued, "Sometimes it's as if I can feel your loneliness and pain; and it hurts me -- deep inside . . . it hurts so much – like when I see a small child that's been injured.  I-I want to put my arms around them and . . . and just hold them until the pain goes away."  She looked down at their joined hands.  "I don't want to feel your hurt, Folken . . . I-I-I don't want you to be lonely."  A tear slid down her cheek as she finished.

            Pulling his hand from her grasp, Folken encircled Jindra in his arms and pulled her towards his chest.  "Jin, please -- please don't . . . don't cry.  I didn't mean to upset you . . ."

            Resting her head on his chest, Jindra spoke softly, "S'okay; you didn't upset me, really.  I-I-I just don't know how -- how to say what I feel."

            "Oh, I don't know.  You seemed to be doing alright." Folken smiled to himself as he reached up his hand and cupped her head.  "All of this is new to me, too."  Jindra could hear the playful tone in his voice as he spoke.  "The question now is -- what are we going to do about it?"

            Raising her head, she looked up at him.  "What do you mean?"

            "Well, it's fairly obvious -- we've both pretty much confessed our feelings for one another; so -- where do we go from here?"

            Opting for a playful tone herself, Jindra coyly looked at him, "I think we should take advantage of this beautiful evening and continue our walk."  Pulling away a little, she batted her eyes at him, "By the way, did you know that there's just the cutest little gazebo a bit farther down this path?"

            Feigning surprise and shock, Folken widened his eyes.  "My lady!  What are you suggesting?  It sounds rather scandalous.  A proper young lady of your family's standing shouldn't be walking in moon-lit gardens with outland apprentice sorcerers."

            Playing along, Jindra gave him a small smile.  "My good sir; I meant no offense.  I was merely offering a small distraction to make our walk more . . . interesting.  Please forgive me for shocking your sensibilities."

            Folken reached down and took Jindra's hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it.  "My lady, nothing you do or say could ever offend me.  I would be most honored for the pleasure of your company."

            Still holding hands, the young couple set out once again down the garden path.

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            Anton Lefebvre's eyes burned in the torchlight as he watched the couple pass into the shadows and down the path.  He silently clenched his jaw and gripped his wine glass.  _What is she doing?  Doesn't she realize what he is?  What he will be?  He'll ruin her!_  Anton gripped the glass harder.  Suddenly he heard a crack and felt the wine as it soaked through his glove.  _It's so wrong -- someone has to make her see it!_


	4. Chapter Four

_FOUR_

            Folken sat hunched over his work table in the laboratory.  Trying to concentrate on his work, he glanced down at the book in front of him and then picked up a jar containing a green liquid.  _What is wrong with me today?  I just can't seem to concentrate on anything.  Looking up, he glanced at the other two students in the room.  __Well, at least I'm not the only one staying late.  Stealing a quick look at the head table, he saw Master Lacroix making notes on a sheaf of papers.  __I better get back to work before I get another lecture on my lack of effort and concentration.  Folken winced as he recalled the public admonishment that he had received that morning in front of the entire class._

            Picking up an empty glass tube, he carefully poured in some of the green liquid.  Looking down at the book one more time, he then poured the contents of the tube into another jar.  As the green liquid mixed with the contents of the jar, a faint hiss could be heard; and slowly the mixture began to foam.  _Yes, I think I've got it this time.  Carefully, Folken placed the container into a large bucket of water.  Counting to twenty, he then removed the jar with a pair of wooden tongs.  __Well, here goes nothing.  Turning the jar over onto the tabletop, he shook it gently.  Lifting the glass slowly, he marveled at the crystal underneath.  __Yes!  Picking up the hardened piece of crystal in his hand, he held it up to the light._

            "Well Folken, I guess the third time is the charm as they say."  Master Lacroix remarked as he walked towards the work table.  "If you had put this much effort into your work this morning, you wouldn't be here now."  Folken handed the man the crystal.  "Not bad – a little cloudy, but not bad at all."  Lacroix gave the crystal back to the younger man.

            "I expect more effort from you Lacour – Emperor Dornkirk expects more effort from you.  You should show him the proper respect by doing your absolute best."  Folken could feel the heat rise in his face at Lacroix's words.  "The science of sorcery requires the utmost dedication – there is no room for distraction.  You must be disciplined and committed."  He gave Folken a pointed look, "You understand what I'm talking about, don't you?"

            The young apprentice nodded his head, "Yes Master, I do.  I will redouble my efforts and concentrate harder.  I'll try to do my absolute best."

            "Yes . . . well, see that you do.  I will have to mention this in my weekly report to the emperor, of course.  I'm sure that he will not be pleased.  Let us hope that next week's report will make him happier, eh?"

            "Yes sir, I will try my best."

            Lacroix waved a dismissive hand at Folken, "Well, get going then.  Tomorrow will not be an easy day.  If I were you, I'd read the next three chapters on alchemy."  The older man started to turn away, "Be sure to clean up your work table before you."  With that he walked away to where the other two students were working to check on their progress.

            "Yes sir, thank you."  Folken gathered the used jars and tubes together, washed them out and then put them back into the cabinet on the wall.  After a final check of his work area, he picked up the crystal and slipped it into one of pockets of his robe.  He quickly gathered up his books and notes and quietly left the lab.

            _Dornkirk.  Just thinking about seeing the man face-to-face sent a shiver down Folken's spine.  He knew that he owed his life to the Zaibach emperor, but he feared him as well.  Although he had been in Zaibach for almost two years, he could count on both his hands the number of times that he had been before the emperor.  Each time, Dornkirk had spoken of him about his plans to change the destiny of Gaea and how Folken was to be instrumental in what was to come.  __I don't understand everything that he speaks of; but I can understand peace.  Peace forever – I don't think I can imagine it . . . but wouldn't it be wonderful?_

            Lost in his thoughts, Folken was surprised to find that he had reached the door to his quarters.  Opening the door, he stepped inside.  He had long since grown accustomed to the sparse accommodations, although he did have three rooms to himself.  The front room was the largest and contained the most furniture:  a work table and chair, a bookcase, two wingback chairs, a small table, a sideboard and a large wardrobe that took up most of one wall.  The other two rooms were a small bedroom and a washroom.  Folken knew that he was lucky to have so much.  He knew there were other students that were paired up in single rooms that were only half the size of his front room.  _Another gift from the emperor.  _

            Putting his books and papers down on the work table, he sighed with weariness.  As they had so often in the past week, his thoughts began to turn towards Jindra Roh.  Sitting down in one of the old, but still comfortable chairs, Folken let his mind go back to the night of Coren's going away party.

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            The two of them had walked out along the garden path until they came to the little gazebo that Jindra had promised earlier.  The torches had not been set out that far along the path, but there was plenty of light from the two moons shining brightly in the sky above.  Stopping at the entrance to the small building, Folken had taken Jindra in his arms and kissed her.  It was a real, full kiss on the lips and he felt himself shiver from the power of it.  He had no doubts that Jindra had felt it also.  She had raised her arms and wound them around his neck in an effort to pull him closer.  When the two finally broke apart, they were both breathless.  Looking at each other, they both blushed and smiled.

            "I don't know about you, but I really need to sit down." Jindra had said as she took his hand and pulled him towards one of the benches lining the gazebo.

            They had sat together for at least an hour or more, Folken's arm around Jindra as she rested her head on his shoulder.  They had gazed up at the stars and talked of little things, most of which Folken could not even recall; so caught up in his emotions as he was at the time.  He did remember pointing out some of the different stars and constellations in the sky and telling Jindra their names.  They also talked about the legends that were told of the Mystic Moon and the people that were said to dwell there.  Folken didn't believe in such tales, but he found Jindra to be more open-minded.

            "How do you know that there aren't?  We're here – couldn't there be someone else on another world?  Just because you haven't actually seen something doesn't mean that it doesn't exist."  Folken had merely smiled at her and shaken his head.  

            "C'mon Folken, you're supposed to be a scientist.  How can you be so close-minded?"  Jindra had asked him.  "I've never seen a dragon, but I believe they exist."

            "Dragons . . .?"

            "Yes, everyone says they're just legends, but I believe in them."

            "What do you know about dragons?"  Folken had tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

            "Nothing – but I've read about them – and seen pictures in books; but it was mother who made me believe in them."

            "Your mother?"  He had inquired.

            "Yes, she told me that she heard a dragon roar once and that it was the most horrible sound she ever heard in her whole life."

            "Where was she?"

            "In . . . oh, what's the name of that country?  Fa-Fa- something . . . let me think . . . Fanelia – yes that's it, Fanelia.  It was when she was still a girl.  My grandfather would take her on short trade trips with him and they had gone to Fanelia.  She said that she was out on the deck of the ship when she heard it.  I remember she said that she had never been so frightened in her entire life.  One of the crewmen told her it was a dragon.  Of course she didn't believe him, until my grandfather called and made her go inside.  He told her that it was a dragon roar, he had heard them before – he even claimed to have seen one once, from a distance.  He made her stay below deck until they landed in Fanelia – he said it was too dangerous to be out on deck if dragons were about.

            My mother even showed me a small coin purse that she said was made out of dragon hide.  It was so beautiful – I don't think I've ever seen anything like it.  It glistened and shimmered in the sunlight and it felt so cool and silky under my fingers.  Like I said, I believe my mother and I believe in dragons."

            "Well your mother was right, dragons are real, very real – and they are beautiful . . . beautiful and dangerous."

            "How would you know?"  She had scoffed at him.

            "Trust me, I know."  There had been such intensity in his eyes that Jindra had not pursued the matter any further.

            Soon after they had left the gazebo and, holding hands, walked towards the gate that led out to the lane behind Jindra's house.  At the gate they had held each other made plans to meet in the park in a few days.  They had kissed again, that time even more deeply.  Taking a chance, Folken had slid his tongue along her bottom lip and was surprised when Jindra opened herself up to him.  Gods, how he never wanted that kiss to end; but eventually they pulled apart and once again just held each other.

            "Jin, I really need to go.  I don't want to leave you, but I've been gone too long."  He had said softly.

            "I know . . . I don't want you to go either.  I wish we could stay just like this and watch the sun rise together."  Jindra had replied as she looked up into his eyes.

            Folken had smiled at her, "You're just making it harder for me to leave."

            "That's the idea.  But I don't want you to get into trouble, so I guess I'll have to let you go . . . for now."  Jindra had said, returning his smile with one of her own.

            He gave her a small parting kiss on the forehead before opening the gate and starting out towards the street.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Sitting in his quarters, Folken imagined that he could still feel the warmth of her body as it had pressed against him and the soft touch of her lips on his and he smiled as sleep slowly claimed him.


	5. Chapter Five

_FIVE_

            Jindra watched Folken as he walked down the lane that led towards the street until he was lost in the shadows.  Sighing, she turned back to the path that would lead her back to the house.  She was startled to see the outline of someone a few feet away.  "Who's there?  What do you want?" she said, trying to steady her voice.

            "Relax Jin, it's just me."  Coren said as he stepped out where she could see him clearly.  "Everyone was wondering where you were.  I should have guessed."

            "How long have you been there?"

            "Long enough to ask you if you're out of your mind?"  Jindra could hear the controlled anger in her brother's voice.

            "Not that it's any of your business; but no, I'm not."  She replied, trying to walk past him.

            "Of course it's my business; I am your brother after all."  Coren said putting out an arm to block her way.  "He's a sorcerer Jin, or he will be.  Don't tell me you don't understand what that means."

            "No, I don't understand it.  Why don't you explain it to me?"

            "You don't know some of what I know about him."

            Jindra put her hands on her hips, "What's that supposed to mean?"

            "Do you really know how he came to be here?  Where he really came from?  Did you know that the emperor has a very personal interest him?  No, I didn't think so."

            "Then why don't you enlighten me, dear brother."  Jindra's voice dripped with sarcasm as she folded her arms across her chest.

            "Look, just from I've seen tonight, I can tell there is some real feeling between the two of you – but I'm only trying to save you some heartache."

            "No, you're trying to break my heart and I don't want to hear anything you have to say."  Jindra tried to push past him once again, but Coren caught her by the arm and held her. 

            "Jin, just listen – please.  I'm not saying this to hurt you . . . but – but you know that I love you.  I just don't want to see you get hurt."

            Jindra wrenched her arm from her brother's grasp, "Then tell me – tell me what you think you know about Folken."

            "You know I like Folken.  I even consider him to be a friend . . . but . . ."

            "But what -- he's not your friend anymore because he kissed your sister?"

            "No!  It's not like that.  Look, didn't you ever wonder why I even agreed to teach him in the first place?  It's because I didn't have any choice.  Folken approached me about becoming his fencing instructor, but I said no.  I've never taught anyone before, and quite frankly I really didn't want to."

            "But obviously you changed your mind."

            "No, my mind was changed for me.  A few days later, a man came to see me.  He was one of the emperor's personal guards and he suggested that it might be in my best interest – and the interest of my family – to reconsider Lord Folken's request.  Lord Folken, that's what he called him.  I mean how can possibly say no to something like that.  Of course I agreed."

            "Folken would never threaten you . . ."

            "I know he wouldn't and I don't think he even knows that anyone came to see me.  But after that encounter, I was even more curious about him; so I started asking around and listening to things that were being said about him.  I didn't plan on liking him and becoming friends with him.  That just made it even harder to accept what I learned about him."

            "Well, what is it then?  What's so horrible?"

            "You know that he isn't from Zaibach, right?"  Jindra nodded her head.  "Well he's from a small country near Asturia.  I never really heard of it before, it's called Fanelia.  In fact he was, or maybe still is, the crown prince of Fanelia."

            "F-F-Fanelia?  But . . . that's . . ."

            Coren saw the strange look that came over his sister's face and he hesitated.  "What?  Did he tell you already?"  

            "N-No . . . but . . . it doesn't matter – keep going."

            "Apparently a patrol found him in the woods; he had been gravely injured – near death.  He had lost his right arm.  They took him onboard and the ship's physician somehow managed to keep him alive until they reached the capital.  They brought him to the sorcerer's tower – that's where that metal arm came from.  They somehow attached it to his shoulder to replace the one that he had lost."

            Coren looked thoughtful for a moment, "Although I always wondered what one of our patrols would be doing in backwater country like Fanelia . . ." 

            As her brother spoke, Jindra imagined Folken's face in her mind.  _Oh, what it must have been like to wake up and see what they had done to you.  She could feel tears welling up in her eyes._

            "Jin – are you alright?  You're not crying are you?"

            Hastily scrubbing at her eyes with her fingers, she replied "No, I'm not crying."

            Coren looked at her face.  _She's such a horrible liar.  Sighing, he continued on.  "From what I've learned, Folken is held in the highest esteem by the emperor; something along the lines of a protégé.  I've heard that some people think that the emperor has chosen him to be his successor – as if that will ever happen."_

            "That's it – that's your groundbreaking information?"  Jindra said with scorn in her voice once again.

            "Damn it Jin!  How think is your skull?  What it all means is that his future has already been mapped out for him – a future that doesn't include you, no matter how the two of you feel about each other.  You know all the stories about the sorcerers that I do.  How they don't have any attachments or lives outside of the tower.  How they commit everything to their pursuit of knowledge and science.  How the emperor controls their every move and thought.  Do you really think that you will be the exception to that?"

            "That's all they are Coren – stories.  You know Folken; you know he's not like that.  Maybe he will give up the tower."

            "Jin, will you wake up?  You can't really believe that?  For some reason he won't – or can't – return to his own homeland.  He owes his very life to that tower and to the emperor.  In the end, I think that is what he'll choose.  I know that isn't what you want to hear, but I just don't want you to get hurt."

            "Coren . . . I love you, you're my brother – and my best friend, but you have to let me live my own life.  What I feel for Folken can't just be turned off – it's . . . it's – I think I might be in love with him.  I just want you to understand . . ." Jindra trailed off as she felt the tears come once again.

            Coren's arms came around her shoulders and he asked gently, "Jin, are you sure?  Are you sure you're in love with him?"

            "I-I-I don't know . . . I've never felt this way before.  I-It's like I was empty inside before I met Folken . . . and now – now I can feel him in my heart.  It's like finding a piece of myself that I didn't know was missing.  I-I-I . . . I just don't know . . ."

            "Shhhh, it's alright – I do understand.  I felt the same way once, but unfortunately she didn't feel the same way about me and that's even worse.  But I do understand."

            Pulling back, Jindra took her brother's hand in her own.  "Coren . . . I know you don't approve, but please – please let me live my own life.  If I get hurt, then it will be my own fault and you can come back and say 'I told you so'."

            Coren stared into her face for a few moments before answering.  "Where did my little tomboy sister go?"  He gave her a small smile, "She seems to have grown up into a very pretty young woman – a woman that doesn't need her big brother to protect her anymore . . . not that she ever really did . . ."

            "Coren . . ."

            "No, if this is what you really want, then who am I to stop you.  But remember that I did try to warn you, Jin.  I hope for your sake that I'm wrong.  But you better warn _Lord Folken Lacour that he'll have to answer to me if he hurts you."_

            Jindra threw her arms around her brother, "I knew you would understand – you'll see . . ."

            _I do understand, Jin.  I just wish that you would.  "C'mon little sister," Coren said, breaking Jindra's embrace.  "We better get back before mother has the servants out searching for us."  Jindra slipped her arm through her brother's._

            "If I were you, I'd apologize to Anton when we get back."  Coren said as they started walking towards the house.

            "Anton?  Why do I need to apologize to Anton?"

            "He was a bit miffed when you disappeared."  He smiled and winked at her.  "You better watch it; I think he's got a crush on you.  Just try to let him down easy, okay?"

            "How can he have a crush on me?  We only just met."

            Coren looked at her and shook his head, "You really have no idea, do you?  Did you look at yourself in the mirror tonight?  Hell if I wasn't your brother, I'd probably have a crush on you too."

            "Coren – yuck!  I hope not, you are definitely not my type."

            "Oh – and what exactly is your type?"

            "Um . . . um, well . . . I'm not – I'm not really sure, but I know it isn't you."

            Coren clutched his chest, "Owwwww!  Right through the heart baby sister – right through the heart."  He started to laugh and unable to help herself, Jindra joined him.  They were still laughing as they climbed the steps to the balcony and returned to the conservatory.


	6. Chapter Six

_SIX_

            "Lord Folken . . .?" The knock came again, "Lord Folken?"

            "Just a moment," Folken called out as he pulled on his robe and passed through his bedroom door into the front room.  _Now what?  I'm not late am I?  He glanced at the window, but the heavy drapes were still drawn closed.  Looking at the clock on the table as he went to the door, he saw the time.  __Gods, is it really that early?  What the hell is going on?  He quickly ran his fingers through his hair before unbolting the lock and opening the door.  "Yes – what is it?"_

            "Lord Folken?  Sir, Emperor Dornkirk as requested to see you – immediately."  The young guard snapped to attention as he spoke.

            "What?  The emperor wants to see me – now?"

            "Yes sir.  I'm to escort you as soon as you're dressed."

            "I-I'll be just a few minutes; please come in."

            "No sir, that's alright.  I'll wait here in the hall."  The man turned and positioned himself next to Folken's door.

            Folken closed the door and stood for a few moments, his hand still on the knob.  _What's going on?  Why would he want to see me now?  He shook his head and sighed in frustration.  Going to the wardrobe against the wall, he opened the door and took out clean clothing.  He quickly splashed some cold water on his face and then dressed.  __He's never asked to see me like this – or this early.  Folken's stomach began to feel queasy.  Running a brush quickly through his hair, he took a quick survey of his appearance in the small wall mirror._

            As he opened the door, the guard turned towards him.  "All ready sir?"

            "Yes . . . well, let's go.  It wouldn't do well to keep the emperor waiting."  Folken saw the young man blanch at his words.  _It feels like my stomach is doing somersaults.  The guard started off at a very brisk pace and Folken found himself hurrying to catch up._

            The hallways of the sorcerer's tower were just about deserted.  The two men encountered only a few of the dog-men servants as they made their way towards the heart of the tower.  The servants barely gave them a glance as they passed by them.  Folken had at first found comfort in the appearance of the servants, for they had reminded him of the wolf-men that lived in Fanelia.  But unlike the wolf-men, the servants of the tower did not enjoy the same level of equality and friendship that Ruhm and his pack did in Folken's homeland.  Here, the dog-men were treated as the lowliest of servants and Folken had even seen a few instances of physical violence against them.  He had tried to treat them kindly, but they always seemed to be afraid of him.  At first he thought that it was because of his arm; but he soon realized it was because they were afraid of all the sorcerers, not just him in particular.

            Folken and the guard soon reached the stairs that led up to the emperor's throne room.  There, the man stopped and motioned for the young apprentice to continue on.  "You are to go right up sir."

            Folken nodded his head and started up the short flight of stairs.  _Why does it feel like I'm walking to the gallows?  He felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter.  When he reached the top of the stairs, he paused for a minute before walking to the massive set of double doors at the end of the short hallway.  He could see the guards posted down the hall and on either side of the entrance doors.  Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he started down the hall._

            When he reached the doors, one of the guards barred his way with a wicked-looking pike.  "Stop!" the man ordered.  "Who are you?"

            Folken straightened his back and spoke in a cool voice, "Lord Folken Lacour – the emperor has summoned me."

            The guard looked at him and then moved aside.  "His majesty is expecting you.  You may enter."  The man pulled open one of the bronze-colored doors and motioned for Folken to enter.  The door closed with a hollow thud behind him.

            As usual, there was very little light inside the chamber.  The room had a cavern-like feel to it and the lack of light only made it worse.  There was no furniture -- at least not that Folken had ever been able to see.  The only things visible in the chamber were a few small torches scattered along the walls that did nothing to actually give any light.  All they seemed to do was lengthen the shadows and make the darkness even more disorienting.  Folken still speculated at what or who might be lurking in those shadows.  _Perhaps the emperor himself . . .  Taking another deep breath, he stopped and waited._

            Folken wasn't sure how long he stood there waiting.  _Has it been a few minutes – an hour?  Gods, how I hate this dark emptiness.  He could feel his legs start to grow tired and his mechanical arm began to feel heavy; but he willed himself to stay motionless.  __Why is he making wait like this?  Suddenly, there was a shift in the darkness and the knot in Folken's stomach returned._

            "Folken."  The voice was deep and resonated throughout the chamber.

            Folken quickly dropped to one knee and bowed his head.  "Y-Your majesty," he stammered.  Allowing his eyes to glance slightly up, he found Dornkirk's face before him.  He could feel the emperor's eyes as they studied him and it felt as if they were looking right into his soul; and it took all of Folken's strength not to shiver under that dark, penetrating gaze.  He could feel the sweat on his back as he held himself motionless, hardly daring to even breathe.

            Slowly, Dornkirk's face retreated back into the room a few feet away.  "You may rise."

            Folken relaxed his muscles and tried not to grimace as he regained his feet.  "Your majesty," he said with a slightly steadier voice.

            "Folken, the time has come for you to take your place at my side.  Starting today, you will begin a new life – you will begin working towards a new destiny, and you must be prepared for what is to come."  Folken remained motionless, almost hypnotized by the sound of the emperor's voice.  "Today you will leave the past behind and begin living for the future – a future that will change the fate of Gaea for all eternity."

            Folken could feel the intensity of Dornkirk's gaze on him as he continued.  "Together you and I will unravel the secrets of the legendary power of Atlantis – that great power that is your birthright.  Then, together, we will use that power to bring peace and prosperity to our world.  Starting today, you will become my apprentice . . . you will become an extension of myself.  You will serve me and serve in my stead.  Today you will lay Folken Lacour de Fanel to rest."

            Folken struggled to speak, "Y-Your majesty . . ."

            Dornkirk continued on, as if he had not heard the young man at all.  "Listen to what I have said and what I will say.  Learn well all that I have to teach you.  You are the one, Folken – you have been chosen."  The young outlander felt himself begin to tremble.  "Everything that you are, everything that you long to be must be put aside.  As of today, you have only one path – one destiny – and it will not be an easy one.  It will require your complete dedication and obedience – but the rewards will be more than you could imagine."

            Folken fell to his knees before the emperor, "My lord . . . your majesty . . . I-I am unworthy of such an honor – or such trust.  I-I cannot possibly fulfill such expectations . . ."

            "Folken, you do not understand what it is that you possess.  Within your veins burns the blood of Atlantis.  Together you and I will discover how to harness the power of that blood.  It is that very power that will lead Gaea into the future – a future that you and I will bring about.  Think of it – you will be responsible for unlocking the power that will lead our beautiful world to untold peace and prosperity.  You are the key, Folken."

            Folken felt the tears streaming down his face.  _I can bring peace and prosperity to Gaea?  But how – I don't understand.  But . . . Van – think of Van . . . a world of peace where he will never have to face a dragon.  A world where there would be no need for dragon slayers._

            Folken slowly looked up and faced Dornkirk. "Y-Your majesty, I am your servant and humbly beg to be your student.  I will serve you and learn from you.  I am yours."

            _Of course you are my young dragon prince – as if there was ever any doubt._


	7. Chapter Seven

_SEVEN_

            Jindra Roh pulled her wrap tighter about her shoulders as she walked.  The sun had gone behind the clouds and the gusty wind held a distinct chill.  She had been sitting on the park bench for almost half an hour and thought that a quick stroll around the small clearing might warm her up a little.  _He's late – I can't believe I'm sitting around here waiting for him.  He probably won't come at all.  Any minute now, one of those servants from the tower will be here with a note.  What have I done?  I don't understand what's come between us.  Sighing with frustration, Jindra walked back to the cold bench and sat down._

            Her brother, Coren, had been gone for five months and although he wrote her letters every now and then, it still wasn't the same.  She still missed him so much and wanted him back home, even if he did drive her crazy half the time.  Their house seemed so quiet and lonely without his booming laughter and good natured humor.  She had cried like a baby the day that he left and still felt tears spark in her eyes whenever she recalled some wild episode or another that the two of them had gotten themselves into.  _Why did you have to go – especially when I need you so much now?  I wish you were here you big brute – I really could use a good shoulder to cry on._

            Jindra had also received another letter from her Aunt Bethanne yesterday, once again inviting her to come and stay with her in Palas.  _I can't keep putting her off – but what do I tell her?  She was torn between wanting to go to Palas and staying home so that she could see Folken.  __But I haven't really seen__ Folken in so long.  Would he even miss me – or notice – if I went?  Maybe it would be best if we were apart for a while._

            So much had changed between Jindra and Folken in the last few months and seemed as if they had started growing apart.  Jindra wasn't sure why, but she felt that it was all her fault somehow – that maybe she wanted too much from him, that maybe she was too demanding.  Folken was always late to meet her, when he came at all.  Even when they did manage to spend some time together, it seemed as if his attention was always elsewhere.  The first time that she had mentioned it to him, he had brushed it aside, "I'm just so busy with my work -- I've started a whole new phase in my studies; I don't mean to seem distracted."  Something more than that had changed in the tower, Jindra was sure of it; and whatever it was, it had changed Folken.  He just seemed so distant and secretive.

            She had tried asking him about what he was working on, but he wouldn't say.  "I can't tell you, Jin.  It's forbidden to discuss tower matters with outsiders, I'm sorry."  _Outsiders . . . I'm an outsider to the man I love.._

            Jindra ran her hand over her leather satchel and felt the lump of crystal inside.  She remembered when Folken had given it to her – how she had marveled at the fact that he had made it.  She could tell that he was proud of the accomplishment and she carried it with her everywhere.

            She was brought out of her musings by the tolling of the city clock a few blocks away.  _An hour – he's not coming . . . I don't even get a servant this time.  Why doesn't he just have the courage to tell me that he doesn't want to see me anymore?  Angrily, Jindra got to her feet and started walking._

            _Where now?  I don't want to go home – Anton is probably there.  Since her brother's departure, Anton Lefebvre had become something of a semi-permanent fixture at her home.  Jindra knew that her mother encouraged the young man to visit and was hoping for a possible match between the two.  Jindra did like Anton, but only as a friend.  At first she had been glad for his company after Coren had left; but as time passed, she could see that the young man's feelings were much more serious.  Although he had never come right out and told her, Jindra was pretty sure that Anton was in love with her; and she felt bad because she couldn't return his feelings._

            Jindra also suspected that Anton knew about her relationship with Folken.  She had seen the hardness in his eyes whenever she happened to mention the outlander's name in his presence.  There had been such a dark coldness in his manner, that it had scared her.  She was sure that it was a side of his personality that he did not show very often_.  I bet he has one heck of a temper.  Oh, why do I care . . . I never asked Anton to fall in love with me – I never encouraged him that way._

            Still trying to figure out what she was going to do, Jindra thought that she heard someone call her name.  Turning in the direction of the sound, she saw Folken running towards her.  "Jin!  Jin, wait up!"  Jindra stopped and waited for him to catch up with her.  _Damn him if he thinks I'm going to meet him halfway.  I should just keep walking -- it'll serve him right._

            Folken reached her and took several deep breaths before he spoke, "Jin – I'm sorry, so sorry.  I really meant to be on time today.  I was so afraid that you would be gone – I'm so sorry."  He could see the anger in her eyes as he spoke.  "I know you're angry with me, but . . ."

            "But what -- what's your excuse today?"  Jindra's voice held an icy tone that made Folken step back from her.

            "Jin . . .  please . . . I am sorry – I really mean it.  I did want to be on time today to see you."

            Jindra could tell that Folken was trying to be sincere, but she was too angry and frustrated.  "Well obviously you didn't quite make it, did you?  I can't believe that I was stupid enough to stay out here freezing for an hour waiting for you."

            Folken pleaded with her, "Jin, please – let me explain."

            "What's to explain?  You were held up by your studies – I've heard it all before, Folken."  She said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

            "Yes, I was – it is the truth.  I have responsibilities Jindra; and as much as I want to spend time with you, I still have to do what is expected of me in the tower too."

            "Obviously I can guess how much I mean to you then . . ."

            Folken's eyes narrowed at her words, "You don't understand . . ."

            "No Folken, I guess I don't.  All I know is that I love you . . . and – and I thought that you loved me . . . but – but I'm not so sure anymore."  Folken's eyes widened as she spoke.

            He reached out his arms towards her, but she stepped away.  "Jin . . . I do love you – I love you so much and I want to be with you, but I also have to continue my work with the sorcerers.  It's so hard for me to do both – please try to understand . . ."

            Jindra's voice was soft, "I guess Coren was right – he tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen to him."

            Folken gave her a puzzled look, "Coren . . .?"

            "When he found out about us, he tried to warn me – he told me that you would choose the tower over me."  Her voice started to break, "I didn't want to believe him, but he was right."

            Folken stepped towards her again; and when she didn't move away, he put his arms around her and pulled her to his chest.  "No Jin, your brother was wrong.  I do love you – I love you so very much.  I know that I'm not supposed to, but I do.  Somehow I'll work it all out – you'll see; I'll think of a way."

            Jindra put her arms around him and hugged him back.  He could feel her take several deep breaths and he waited patiently for her to speak.

            "Folken . . . I-I'm going away."

            "What!?!" He exclaimed as he pulled back from her.

            Jindra couldn't meet his eyes, "I'm going to Palas – to visit my aunt.  I'll be gone for several weeks, at least."

            "Jin, I know that things haven't been right between us – but please, don't leave me."

            "I'm not going for good, I'll be back . . ."

            Folken sighed, "I know that you're unhappy, but running away won't help."

            "That's great advice coming from you!"  Jindra snapped back.

            "What's that supposed to mean?"  He replied with anger in his voice.

            Jindra took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering.  "Nothing – I'm sorry."  She put her hand on his arm, "I've been thinking about this for a while.  My aunt has been asking me to come for the past few months – since before Coren left.  I just think that now is a good time.  Maybe you and I just need some time apart – I think we could both use some time to sort our feelings out."

            "Jindra . . . please – don't go.  I'll try to spend more time with you, I promise.  Please, please don't leave me."  Folken's voice cracked with unshed tears.

            Jindra felt his sadness wash over her as she reached up and touched his cheek.  "Folken . . . I love you . . . I love you so much that it hurts sometimes.  It hurts when you and I can't be together.  I don't know, maybe being apart from you will help me . . . I'll come back to you -- you have my word."  She reached down and clasped his metal hand, "More importantly, you have my heart; and I'll be back in a few weeks to see how well you've taken care of it."  She gave him a small smile and reached up to brush his lips with a soft kiss, "So don't disappoint me."

            Folken looked down into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity before he spoke.  "I love you Jindra Roh – I love you so much.  I don't want you to go – but I won't beg you stay, either; I do have some pride after all.  But if you're even one day late in returning, then watch out – because I will come after you."  He then bent his head down and kissed her.

            As their lips met, Jindra opened her mouth to his questing tongue as she wound her arms around his neck.  Crushing her to his chest, Folken felt the tears on his cheeks; _please come back to me – you have to come back to me._

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            When Jindra returned home later that afternoon, she found her mother having tea in the library with Anton Lefebvre.  As always, the young Lieutenant was very attentive and polite and she could see her mother beam under Anton's ministrations.  Jindra was trying to decide how she could broach the subject of Palas to her mother when she realized that Anton was speaking to her.

            "I'm sorry Anton, my mind was somewhere else."  She saw the disapproving look that her mother gave her.

            "I was just asking about your afternoon – where did you go?"

            "Oh, nowhere really – I just walked around the park, went to a few shops."  Anton's eyes narrowed at her words.  _He knows perfectly well where I was – and who I was with – and he knows my mother wouldn't like it one bit.  What is he up to?_

            "You shouldn't be wondering around by yourself in this weather; you'll catch your death."

            "Really Anton, I don't think it's that cold out – and besides, you don't have to worry about me."

            Sensing that things were not going as she had hoped, Doreena Roh decided to intervene.  "Jindra dear, I saw that you had a letter from Bethanne yesterday; what did she have to say?"

            _Thank you for such a perfect opening, Mother.  "Not much; just that everyone is well and she's invited me to come and visit for a few weeks.  Please Mother, could I?  I haven't been to Palas in so long – I really, really would like to go."_

            Her mother's eyes lit up, "Oh yes, I think that's a wonderful idea.  It seems like ages since you last went to Palas.  We'll speak to your father about this evening."

            Jindra looked at Anton and saw the puzzled look on his face.  "Palas – why would you want to go there?"

            "Who wouldn't want to?  Have you ever been there?"  The young man shook his head.  "Then you don't know what you're missing.  Palas is the most beautiful city on Gaea and I'd stay there forever if I could."  Jindra turned back to her mother, "I'll need a few days to pack and to write Aunt Bethanne and let her know that I'm coming.  When do you think I could leave?"

            Anton's voice sounded shocked, "You certainly can't travel alone – it just wouldn't be proper."  He looked at Jindra's mother, "I do hope Madam Roh that you'll be going as well."

            Doreena smiled at him, "Oh Lieutenant, you're so old fashioned.  Jindra has traveled by herself before – she'll be quite alright."  She then rose from her chair, "If you two will excuse me, I need to speak with the cook about dinner.  Will you be joining us, Lieutenant?"

            "Thank you for the invitation, but no – I must get back to the academy in a little while; perhaps another night."  Anton stood and bowed to Jindra's mother as she left the room.  After the door closed, he waited a few minutes before turning back towards Jindra.

            His eyes were cold as he regarded her.  "So, what's the matter?  Did you and your little sorcerer have a falling out?  You seem quite eager to leave the city all of a sudden."

            "What are you talking about?"

            "Please Jindra; you don't have to pretend to be the innocent with me.  I know all about your affair with that metal-armed freak."

            She was up from her seat in an instant, "I think you have better leave now Anton."

            "Oh, I wouldn't get too loud if I were you, _Jin.  I'm sure you wouldn't want your mother to find out about your lover from the black tower.  Did he finally show you his true colors?  Did he break your heart?"  Anton's voice mocked her._

            "Anton, I'm warning you . . ."

            "You, warning me -- that's a laugh.  You forget Jindra; I'm holding all the cards as they say.  I know all about your dirty little love affair with Folken Lacour.  I would really hate to see the look on your poor mother's face were she to learn of it.  She's such a sweet dear woman, it would break my heart."

            "Your heart -- as if you had one."  Jindra spat at him.

            "Oh I have one Jindra, as you well know.  You've been throwing it back in my face for the past five months."

            "Anton . . . I never encouraged you in that way – and I do like you, but only as a friend.  I'm sorry if . . ."

            He cut her off, "I don't want your pity Jindra – I want you.  Since the first night we met, I've wanted you.  I'd go to sleep at night and dream of you.  But then my dreams turned into nightmares – nightmares of you in the arms of that filthy sorcerer.  It's so wrong – why can't you see it?  He can't ever give you the kind of life that you deserve."

            Jindra took a step towards him and reached out her hand, "Anton, please don't . . ."

            He jumped back from her.  "Don't touch me!  Do you want me to lose what little control I have left?"  She could see his hands clench into fists.  "Gods help me, I love you.  I-I-I want you to marry me, Jindra.  I can give you a home, a family – a future.  My family isn't rich, but we could live comfortably.  I can speak with your father later this evening . . ."

            Jindra clutched her hands to her chest, "No Anton – please don't . . . don't ask me . . ." She could see the hurt and pain on his face.  "I-I-I can't marry you . . . I don't love you . . . I don't think that I could ever love you – at least not in that way.  I'm so sorry . . . I don't want to hurt you . . ."

            Anton squeezed his eyes shut as she spoke.  When he opened them, Jindra almost jumped at the icy coldness in his gaze.  "So that's it?  You really are a cold little bitch, aren't you Jindra?  Well, you've made a huge mistake and one day maybe you'll realize it – but by then it will be too late."

            Without another word, Anton turned away and left.  As the door closed behind him, Jindra stood in the middle of the room and wrapped her arms around herself as she shivered with a coldness that went down into her very bones.

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            In a darkened chamber in the sorcerer's tower, a heavily cloaked man knelt at the feet of his emperor.  The man was terrified, but he would not show fear; no, instead he would show Dornkirk that he was worthy of his notice – not his scorn.

            "Your majesty . . ."

            "What have you to report?"  The emperor's power radiated throughout the room.

            The man stood without being given permission to do so.  "Lord Folken and the girl met in the park yesterday.  They were together for perhaps an hour.  It appeared as if they were arguing, although they did embrace before departing."

            "This is all you have?"

            "No, my emperor; I have it on very good authority that the girl will be leaving the city soon.  She will be traveling to Asturia for an extended stay – Palas, my informant said.  I believe this was the cause of the, shall we say, disagreement."

            "I see; and you trust this informant of yours?"

            "Yes my lord; he is a confident of the family.  A very ambitious young man, if I might add.  I believe that he also has a personal interest in the young lady as well."

            "His ambitions mean nothing to me.  No doubt you will see that he is suitably rewarded for his efforts."

            "As you command, your majesty."   The man bowed his head.

            "You will continue to watch and report back to me – and only me.  Do not fail me, understand."  Dornkirk turned away, "You may leave me now."

            The cloaked man bowed deeply and drifted away into the shadows.

            _Folken, you pledged yourself to me.  I am your master and I will be obeyed.  You will learn that the tower is your life – I am your life.  Yes my young charge, you will learn it.  Nothing will come between you and your destiny – nothing._


	8. Chapter Eight

_EIGHT_

            Sitting back from the table, Folken Lacour rubbed his fingers across his eyes and drew in a deep breath.  He had been working for several hours without a break and the drawings on the table had started to blur.  Rising from his seat, he walked to the small sideboard and reached for the water pitcher.  After pouring a generous mug full, he returned to his seat to contemplate the plans that lay out before him.  As he drank, he looked at the handwritten notes he had made along the margins.  _I think that this component needs to be . . .  Picking up his quill; he added a few more notes._

            Since he had started working as Dornkirk's apprentice, the emperor had discovered that Folken had quite an aptitude for mechanics and design.  In addition to his other studies, Dornkirk had assigned him to work with a group of sorcerers that were designing a new guymelef model.  If all of the problems in the prototype models could be fixed, the new machines would be the most advanced mecha on Gaea. 

            Folken did have to admit to himself that he found the whole subject of machines and their design fascinating.  The technology needed to build a guymelef was staggering and at first it had intimidated him.  But as he started to learn and understand more, he found himself engrossed in it.  Zaibach considered itself to be the most technologically advanced country on Gaea and he could see why.  When he had first come there, he had been in awe of the technology that most of the city's citizens took for granted.  The machines that pumped and heated water, the carriers that ran on tracks above the city, and even the massive floating fortresses had all made their impression.  _Maybe this is where I was meant to be . . ._

            With Jindra gone to Palas, he had thrown himself into his studies.  He knew that Dornkirk was pleased with his renewed efforts and that working on the guymelef project was as much a reward as it was a learning experience.  But as much as he liked the work, Folken knew deep down that it was just something to fill the void that existed in his life until Jindra returned.  _Then what -- back to meeting in the park and hiding from everyone?  More and more he had found himself thinking about their relationship and what the future might hold.  Sometimes he would sit in his rooms at night and make plans to leave Zaibach with her.  He wasn't even sure if Jindra would agree to it and even if she did, where could they go?  Palas would be the most obvious choice, but it was also the first place that anyone would look for them.  Folken was sure that her family would come after her and he also had a very strong feeling that Dornkirk would not willingly let him go either.  But one thing he was completely sure of was that the longer he stayed in the tower, the harder it would be for them to be together._

            _Jin.  She had been gone for almost four weeks and he missed her so much.  They had met again in the park the day before she had left and he had again asked her not to go; but she insisted that she had to.  __Please Folken, try to understand; I just need some time . . . I'm going to miss you too.  I love you – you know that.  Don't worry -- I'll be back before you know it._

            They had spent the rest of that brief time lost in each other's arms and lips.  Folken didn't want to let her go because he was afraid that he would never see her again.  Jindra had tried reassuring him that everything would be okay and that she loved him.  She had given him that little smile that she knew he liked, taken his left hand and placed it on her bosom – over her heart.  _You have my heart Folken Lacour . . . you are my heart.  She had tried to smooth his fears away with her kisses and her hands; and her touch had made him groan out loud and grip her tighter in his arms.  Folken had wanted more, so much more – more than kisses and light touches.  He wanted to be with her completely, to show her his love for her.  He wanted to spend the rest of his life sharing that love with her; but he was afraid – afraid that she would reject him if she saw what he really was.  So he had said nothing and watched her walk away from him._

            Yet deep down, Folken had sensed that something was wrong – there had been a subtle change in Jindra's manner that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but something had changed.  It was almost as if she were afraid of something.  She kept glancing around the clearing where they had sat and it seemed almost as if she were trembling at times.  He had tried asking her if something was wrong, but she only insisted that he was imagining things.  _But something has happened . . . she's afraid of something – or someone.  He had wondered if it had something to do with her family.  __Maybe she's been arguing with her parents.  But if that were the case, why would they let her go to Palas?  Coren?  No, she would have told me if something had happened to him.  Folken had racked his brain trying to puzzle out Jindra's odd behavior until he had given himself a headache.  __Well whatever it is, I'm sure she'll tell me when she's ready._

            Sighing, he looked back down at the drawings on the table, dipped his quill and got back to work.

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            Her elbow propped on the desk top and her chin cupped in the palm of her hand, Jindra Roh gazed longingly out the large picture window of her aunt's sitting room.  Spread out before her through the glass was a breathtaking view of the ocean.  She had come there after lunch with every intention of writing a few quick letters.  _I haven't written home in the past two weeks, Mother is probably livid.  But instead, she had sat at the desk for the past half an hour enthralled by the shimmering, sun sparked waters below.  She watched the fishing boats and other small vessels as they passed through the harbor mouth and out to sea.  She watched the gulls that wheeled through the blue, cloudless sky.  __I don't think there is anywhere more beautiful or more perfect on the whole of Gaea.  I wish Folken could be here to see it; I think he'd love it too.  Lost in her thoughts, Jindra didn't hear her aunt enter the room._

            "Jindra?  Jindra . . . are you awake?"  Bethanne Barrant reached out and lightly shook her niece's shoulder.

            "Huh?  What . . .?  Oh, Bethanne – no, I'm not asleep.  I was lost for a while, but I wasn't asleep."

            Bethanne smiled and nodded towards the window.  "It's beautiful, isn't it?  This is my favorite room in the house too.  The first time that I set my foot in this room, I knew I had to have this house.  Armas didn't like it; but I convinced him that his future would be much happier if I were able to live in this house."  She laughed and winked at Jindra.

            Jindra had five aunts and three uncles on her mother' side of the family; and although she loved all of them, Bethanne was probably her favorite.  She was only fifteen years older than Jindra which made her seem of like an older sister – and why she very rarely addressed her as "aunt" – something that Bethanne did not seem to mind at all.

            Bethanne had married when she was about her niece's current age, but unfortunately her husband had died several years later from a wasting illness of the lungs.  Jindra's aunt was still an attractive and vibrant woman, who still deeply mourned her husband and swore that she would never love another man nor remarry.  The couple had been unable to have children and so Bethanne doted on her numerous nieces and nephews and they all considered her to be their favorite aunt.

            Bethanne moved to sit in one of the side chairs that faced the window.  "So, is he handsome?"

            "What . . .?"  Jindra gave her aunt a puzzled look.

            "Is he handsome?"

            "Who?"

            "The man you've been pining over since you came here."

            Not looking her aunt in the eye, Jindra replied.  "I-I'm not pining over anyone."

            Bethanne arched her eyebrow, "Please Jindra, I'm not some half-blind old maid.  You haven't mentioned the university even once since you've been here, and you sit around daydreaming and mooning with big calf eyes."  She smiled at the younger woman, "Besides, your mother wrote me about a special young man that had been paying you quite a bit of attention."

            Jindra blushed, "I-I-I have no idea what she was talking about."

            "Jindra . . . it's not nice to lie you know – especially to me.  Now c'mon, tell me about him – tell me about Anton Lefebvre."

            "Anton?"

            "Yes; isn't that right?  I'm sure that's the name that she gave."

            "Oh it's the right name – but it's the wrong man.  My mother is the one who likes Anton – not me; but only because she doesn't know him like I do – and I don't want to have anything to do with him."

            Sensing something more behind Jindra's words, Bethanne asked gently "What do you mean?"

            "He's in love with me – and he asked him to marry him."

            "Marry you . . ."

            "Yes, but I don't love him, so I told him no.  He-he didn't take it very well – he was so angry and he said horrible things to me . . . he scared me.  But I never led him on, I never encouraged him.  Mother is the one who invited him over all the time and tried to push us together – she's the one that made him think that I had feelings for him."

            "Well I'm sure she was only doing what she thought was best."

            "But it wasn't – my parents never think of my happiness, they only think of what they want.  I'm sure that if Anton had gone to them first for their consent, they would have said yes – without any thought about what I wanted or how I felt."

            "That's not true.  Your parents love you Jindra -- all they want is your happiness.  I'm sure your mother must have seen something or heard something that made her believe that you were interested in him."

            "I-I don't know . . . maybe."  Jindra said reluctantly.  "When he and I first met, I-I was attracted to him – a little.  But that was before . . . before I realized how I really felt about . . ." She hesitated before continuing.  "I liked Anton, yes, but only as a friend.  I didn't mean for him to fall in love with me – I really didn't."  Jindra seemed almost on the edge of tears.

            Stepping over to the desk, Bethanne put her arms around her niece.  "It's alright, Jindra.  You can't control how other people feel."  Straightening up, she took Jindra's hands.  "Come over here and sit with me by the window."

            When the two of them were settled, she continued.  "So, it sounds like there is someone else – someone that you are in love with."

            "Y-Yes . . . his name is Folken.  I love him so much – and he loves me."

            "I take it that your parents don't know about him?"

            "N-No."

            "Why not?"

            "I don't think that would approve of him – I know mother would be mortified."

            "Why?  Is he a farmer?  A stable hand?"  Jindra shook her head.  "Really, Doreena should remember when she was in love with someone her father didn't approve of."

            "Bethanne!"  Jindra exclaimed.

            "Well it's true.  Your mother wore our poor father down so badly that he would have agreed to anything just to get her to leave him alone.  She was a very determined woman, let me tell you.  But I think it was your grandfathers' greed that eventually got him to agree.  He is a merchant after all, and in the end profit is what matters most."

            "How can you say things like that about your own father?"

            "Quite easily – I know him better than you do.  Yellan was no different with Armas and I – he didn't want us to marry either.  He thought that the Barrants were beneath our family; and that's why we eloped.  But after he realized the money he could save by having a shipbuilder in the family, we were welcomed with open arms."

            "Well my parents aren't merchants – it's not the same.  Plus things are a lot different in Zaibach – more complicated."

            "Things are only complicated if you let them get that way."  Bethanne was silent for a few moments before she spoke again.  "This man – Folken, you're sure that he loves you?"  Jindra vigorously nodded her head.  "Enough to marry you?"

            "W-We've never talked about it; but yes, I-I think so."

            "Then what's the problem?  Why are you keeping him hidden from your parents?"

            It's complicated Bethanne – you wouldn't understand."

            "There's that word complicated again."  The older woman sighed.  "I want to help you Jindra.  I can see that you're unhappy, but I can't help you if you won't trust me enough to tell me what's going on."

            Jindra looked at her aunt for several minutes without speaking.  Finally Bethanne sighed again, "Well I don't have all afternoon to sit here and stare at you – I have some errands to run."  She rose from her seat, "Don't forget, we're going to your grandfather's this evening for dinner.  Please be ready when the carriage arrives – and I expect you to be properly dressed, there will be other guests there as well.  If you need anything, just call one of the maids."  Jindra barely nodded her head.

            Bethanne hesitated for a moment in front of Jindra's chair, but her niece would not meet her eyes and kept her gaze on the floor.  Without another word she strode from the room, closing the door behind her as she went.

            Jindra didn't move for several minutes.  When she finally did stir, she raised her head and looked towards the window – her eyes filled with tears.  _I'm sorry Bethanne.  I don't want to hurt your feelings and I know that you want to help . . . but I don't think that you would understand._

            She sat and looked out the window as her tears dried.  After a little while, she left the sitting room and went upstairs to sort out what to wear for dinner.  _Why does love have to hurt so much?_

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            The carriage had arrived and the maid summoned Jindra downstairs.  Bethanne was already in the front entrance hall waiting and as usual, Jindra thought that her aunt looked beautiful.  Afraid that Bethanne might still be angry with her, she tried giving her a small smile.

            Bethanne smiled back as she took her wrap from the maid, "Don't worry Jindra, I'm not going to bite you.  I'm not angry with you, just disappointed – disappointed that you don't trust me as your friend.  But it's alright . . . let's just forget about it and enjoy our evening, shall we?"

            Jindra nodded her head in response.  "Bethanne . . . you look beautiful – really, you do."

            "Thank you; and I must say you look quite good yourself – that color really becomes you.  You and I will be the envy of every other woman there.  We'll have all the men to ourselves – what do you think of that?"  The older woman winked at her niece.

            As Jindra settled her wrap around her shoulders, the maid opened the door and the two women stepped out into the night and the waiting carriage.

            When they arrived at Yellan Vardas' house, the building was ablaze with light and there were several carriages lined up ahead of them waiting to drop off passengers.  Jindra stole a quick glance out of the window and saw several elegantly dressed people step out of the carriage ahead of theirs.  Bethanne looked out after her, "I think that's Medien Fassa.  I'm not sure who the other people are though."

            "Do you know him?"  Jindra asked while they waited for the carriage to pull up to the door.

            "Not well; we've met socially, but I wouldn't say that I really know him.  Our families are business rivals you know."

            "Why would grandfather invite his business rival to dinner?"

            "To show off, of course -- those two are always trying to outdo each other."  Bethanne took a glance out the window, "Looks like it's our turn.  All ready to go?"

            The two were helped from the carriage and then escorted to the front door.  Before they entered, Bethanne took Jindra's hand and squeezed it, "Time to dazzle the helpless males."  Her niece laughed as they stepped into the foyer.

            After leaving their wraps with a servant, the women were then shown to the ballroom.  Jindra was overwhelmed by the brightness of the room and the number of people.  "I thought this was supposed to be a small dinner party?"

            "Well on the Vardas scale, this is a small dinner party.  Come on, we should present ourselves to the great man himself first."  Bethanne pulled Jindra along until they found Yellan Vardas on the far side of the room, surrounded by family and friends.

            Jindra would be the first to admit that she didn't really know her grandfather all that well; in fact he intimidated her a bit.  But he had always treated her kindly and welcomed her to his house whenever she visited Palas.  He also never forgot her birthday and sent her the most interesting and unusual gifts.  Yet there was always something hidden behind his smile and kind words that she just could never seem to put her finger on.  Jindra always thought that it had something to do with the fact that her father was from Zaibach.  She believed that perhaps he still resented the fact that his daughter had married against his wishes.  She hesitated before stepping forward with Bethanne.

            Looking up, Yellan saw the two women approaching.  Smiling broadly, he reached out his arms towards them.  "Here now, if you two aren't the prettiest sights in the room tonight then I must be going blind as well as senile."  He hugged Bethanne and kissed her cheek, "Ah Beth, you're as beautiful as ever."  Jindra saw Bethanne blush at her father's words.

            Turning towards Jindra, he hugged her and kissed her cheek as well.  Without releasing her completely, he stood back and looked at her.  "My little Jindra . . . you're just as radiant as a star."  He smiled and looked up at the small crowd gathered around, "By the gods, I have best looking daughters and granddaughters on Gaea and I'd dare any man to dispute it."  Yellan hugged Jindra once more before releasing her.  "So, how is that stubborn, but equally beautiful, mother of yours?  And Coren?  How is the boy doing?  Your father is well too, I trust?"  Jindra knew that everyone was looking at her and she tried to answer all of his questions without stammering.

            Sensing that her niece was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment, Bethanne was about to intervene when she saw Medien Fassa approach her father.  Jindra broke off speaking as her grandfather turned to greet the other man.

            "Fassa old man – welcome, welcome.  I have a special guest here this evening.  This is my granddaughter, Jindra; she's here visiting for a while."

            Jindra curtsied and smiled, "Nice to meet you sir."  But Fassa only nodded his head and bowed slightly before turning towards Yellan.  "Vardas, if I might have a word with you?"

            After a touch on his granddaughter's shoulder and a smile, Yellan Vardas walked away with the other man.  Looking around her, Jindra spotted Bethanne and quickly made her way over to her.  Bethanne smiled at her, "Saved by Medien Fassa, huh?  Oh well, now we can enjoy ourselves.  Let's get something to drink first."

            The two women walked over to the buffet tables and helped themselves to mulled wine.  As they sipped at their cups, Bethanne surveyed the room a bit and she watched as a young man approached them.  Nudging Jindra, she whispered "Heads up, I think this one is for you."

            Jindra looked up as the man reached them.  He looked to be about the same age as she or perhaps a year or two younger; he had long dark hair that fell about his shoulders, was well dressed in the current style and wore spectacles that had darkened lenses.  He smiled at them and bowed, "If I may be so bold as to introduce myself, I am Dryden Fassa."

            Bethanne spoke first.  "Fassa?  Then you must be Medien's son?"  The young man nodded.  "I'm Yellan Vardas' daughter, Bethanne Barrant; pleased to make your acquaintance."

            Dryden Fassa took the hand that she offered, "The pleasure is all mine, I can assure you.  I'm always pleased to make the acquaintance of a pretty lady."  He let go of her hand as he finished speaking.

            Bethanne gestured to Jindra, "This is my niece, Jindra Roh; she's here visiting Palas for a few weeks." 

            Jindra offered her hand to the young man.  "This must be my lucky night; I've made the acquaintance of two pretty ladies this evening."  He gave Jindra a rakish smile as he spoke and she could feel the blood rushing to her face.  _He's as big a flirt as Coren -- just what I needed._

            "Two lovely ladies unescorted this evening?  How barbaric!  Well rest assured you are under my protection now.  Can I get you ladies some fresh wine?"  Bethanne nodded as Dryden took their cups and turned back towards the serving table.

            Jindra looked at Bethanne and gave her a sly, playful smile.  Bethanne smiled back and gave her niece a wink.  _This just might turn out to be a fun night after all._


	9. Chapter Nine

_NINE_

            In the carriage on the way home, Jindra and Bethanne laughed over their evening with Dryden Fassa.  True to his word, the young man had escorted them all evening:  introducing them to other guests, sitting with them during dinner and even going so far as to dance with each of them at least twice.  They both found him to be very charming, witty and quite intelligent.  When Bethanne had asked her how she liked Dryden, Jindra had laughed and said that it was like spending the evening with her brother.  "He's just like Coren.  Gods he would drive me crazy – he did drive me crazy!  Don't worry Bethanne; he's definitely not my type.  He was quite handsome though."  Bethanne agreed.  "Yes, he was a nice diversion – nothing at all like his father."

            Jindra didn't say anything for a few minutes.  When she finally spoke again, her voice was soft but it held a serious tone.  "Bethanne . . . I'm sorry about this afternoon.  I . . . I want to apologize.  I know that you care about me and just want to help . . . I'm sorry for being so rude."

            Bethanne reached out and patted the younger woman's hand.  "It's okay; I know it's hard to tell someone your deepest feelings.  I'm not angry with you Jindra and if you want to tell me, then you will – I won't pressure you."

            Jindra gave Bethanne a small smile and then looked out the window.  After a few moments of silence, she looked back at her aunt.  "Bethanne . . . I . . . would you . . . I'd like to tell you . . ."

            Guessing what her niece was trying to say, Bethanne patted her hand again.  "Its okay – we're almost home, we can talk then."  Jindra gave her aunt a grateful smile and the two passed the rest of the ride in silence.

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            Upon reaching Bethanne's house, the women retired to the sitting room where they remained silent while the maid brought in a tea tray.  After the servant departed, Bethanne sipped at her tea and waited for Jindra to start.  She could see the younger woman struggling to find her words and so waited patiently.  Jindra looked up at her aunt and Bethanne gave her a reassuring smile.  Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she started.

            Jindra told Bethanne everything, or nearly everything.  She told her how she and Folken had first met, when she first realized that she had feelings for him, the first time that he said that he loved her, most of what Coren had said about his past, their clandestine meetings and finally even about Anton Lefebvre.  She didn't tell Bethanne what Coren had said about Folken being the crown prince of Fanelia, because she really didn't believe it herself; nor did she tell her too much about the sorcerers and the tower – which wasn't hard considering that she didn't know that much about it herself.  After she finished, she felt emotionally drained and exhausted.  She had kept her feelings inside for so long, that it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  Jindra picked up her cup and gulped the now cold tea as she waited for Bethanne to speak.

            Bethanne gave the younger woman a thoughtful look, "Well, I guess you were right – it is a bit complicated . . . but not completely hopeless or impossible."

            "You don't think so?"

            "No; you're not the first woman to fall in love with someone that your family didn't approve of – in fact, in this family it's almost required."  Bethanne smiled as she spoke.

            "I only hope my parents will see the humor in it.  What do you think I should do?"

            Bethanne thought for a moment before answering.  "First I think you should tell your parents, or at least your mother, about Folken.  Doreena knows what it's like, I think she'll understand.  You don't have to tell her everything right away, but you should at least tell her that you've met someone and that the two of you are in love."

            "But she'll want to meet him."

            "I'm sure that she will.  Is that a problem?"

            Jindra hesitated; she had not mentioned Folken's arm to her aunt.  "I-I don't know . . . he's very – shy and self-conscious around people."

            Sensing something more in her niece's words; Bethanne asked gently, "Why?  What's wrong with him?"

            "Nothing – there's nothing wrong with him!"  Jindra replied with anger in her voice.

            "Jindra please, don't get upset with me; but I get the feeling there's more than what you're telling me.  There is something, isn't there?  What is it?  Please, tell me."  She gave the younger woman a sharp look, "He's not married already is he?"

            "No – not that . . . it's just that – that . . . Folken lost his right arm – in an accident; it happened before he came to Zaibach."

            "Oh, how horrible!"

            "He's not an invalid . . . I mean he's learned how to do most everything with his left hand.  I-I don't know how it happened – I've never had the courage to ask him about it.  I can tell that he isn't ready to talk about it yet; that the memory still pains him.  But he knows that I love him and that it doesn't make a difference to me."

            Bethanne reached over and patted Jindra's hand.  "You said 'before he came to Zaibach'.  If he isn't from Zaibach, then where did he originally come from?"

            Jindra started to look uncomfortable and she didn't reply right away.  When she finally did speak, her voice was soft.  "H-He's from a country called Fanelia – Coren said it was on the border of Asturia."

            "Yes; its several days travel from here actually.  How did he get from Fanelia to Zaibach?"

            "A patrol found him – in the forest – he had lost his arm.  Somehow they managed to keep him alive and get him to the city.  They took him to the sorcerer's tower.  T-They . . . his arm . . ." Jindra couldn't finish.  _How can I tell her about his arm?  Will she understand?  Bethanne waited patiently for her to continue._

            "Do you remember when you first came to visit us in Zaibach?"

            Bethanne nodded a puzzled expression on her face.  "Yes; it all seemed so strange -- all the glass and metal buildings . . . all the machines.  It was so different from Palas.  I was a little frightened -- I could see why your mother never really liked it there."

            Jindra swallowed, "All those machines – all of that technology – are what the emperor and his sorcerer's call science.  It's that same technology and that same science that helped save Folken's life with he should have died."  She looked away for a moment.  "They . . . the sorcerers . . . they replaced Folken's lost arm with another one – a metal one."  Jindra's voice was no more than a whisper when she finished.  She didn't want to look at Bethanne, afraid to see her reaction.

            Reaching out, Bethanne took her niece's hand.  "How – how is such a thing possible?"  Her voice sounded incredulous.

            "I-I don't know – but they did.  It almost functions like a real arm.  But he's so self-conscious about it . . . he's afraid that people won't accept him because of it – afraid that people will think he's some kind of monster."  Her voice started to break, "But he's not!  He's kind, and gentle and loving and . . ."

            Bethanne interrupted her, "Jindra you don't have to sell him to me.  I understand how you feel, really I do.  You love him so it's only natural that you feel you have to defend him."  She gave Jindra's hand a squeeze, "Everyone always wondered why I fell in love with Armas Barrant; he wasn't particularly handsome, we didn't travel in the same social circles and his family, while fairly well off, couldn't compare to mine.  But none of that mattered; because I when I looked at him, the only thing I saw was the most perfect man in the world – the one man who could touch my heart and my soul.  It was like finding a piece of myself that I didn't know was lost."  Jindra's eyes widened as she heard the echo of her own words to Coren six months earlier.

            The older woman continued, "That's why I'll never remarry.  I gave my heart to Armas and he still holds it, even in death.  There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about him or remember something that he did or said.  I miss him so much that sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night crying because he's not there by my side."  Bethanne dabbed at her eyes with a linen napkin.  "That kind of love only happens once and I was very lucky to have experienced it – even if it was only for a short time."

            Jindra rose from her chair and hugged the other woman.  "Oh Bethanne, that's how I feel about Folken.  I love him so much that it hurt sometimes.  I hate it when we can't be together.  Sometimes I wish that we could just run away together – somewhere secret where we could stay forever.  He's the only man that I want – ever.  I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

            Bethanne took both of Jindra's hands in hers, "Jindra, the only real advice I can give you is to follow your heart.  Some people fall in love many times during their lives; but few people, like you and me – and even your parents – are ever lucky enough to find that one true, soul-touching love that those other people can only dream of.  That kind of love is never easy, but then again it shouldn't be.  That's how you know it was meant to be and that it will endure."  She brushed the hair from the younger woman's eyes, exposing the tears that Jindra was trying to keep in check.

            Jindra pulled her hands away and brushed at her cheeks with her fingers.  She gave her aunt a smile, "Thank you Bethanne – I'm so grateful to you . . . I've wanted to talk to someone for so long.  Thanks for listening."

            "Well you really should talk to your mother about this – it would be better for her to hear it from you instead of someone else.  I think that she'll understand how you feel.  Talk to Folken too; maybe there is some way he can leave that tower.  What about his family?"

            "I-I-I don't know – he really doesn't say much about them.  All he says is that he can't ever go back to Fanelia."

            "Why?

            "I'm not sure . . . I think it might have something to do with losing his arm.  I think that's why it hurts him so much to talk about it."  Jindra's eyes went wide as a sudden thought hit her, "Maybe they cast him out – maybe they left him there to die!"

            Bethanne shook her head.  "No, I don't think so.  I've only been to Fanelia once and that was quite a few years ago – before you were born.  I went on a trade run with your grandfather."

            "What was it like?"

            "I remember that it was quite peaceful – the whole kingdom was surrounded by the most beautiful forest land.  There were so many shades of green that I don't think I could have counted them all.  The city itself seemed a bit rustic compared to Palas, but the people were all quite open and friendly.  I can't believe that they would leave one of their own out to die."

            Thinking of what Coren had said about Folken's heritage, Jindra asked "Did you ever see the king and queen?"

            "Just once – and from a distance."

            Jindra pressed on, "What were they like?"

            Bethanne thought for a moment.  "The king was a big man and he had a hard look about him.  Not hard in a mean sort of way; but more like a warrior – like a man who had seen battle and death.  Some women might have found him handsome.  But when he looked down at his wife, his whole face changed – it softened.  You could tell that he loved her."

            "The queen, what about her?"

            "Oh she was beautiful . . . so beautiful.  I don't think I've ever seen anyone like her before.  She had long dark hair and when she smiled . . . she was beautiful.  That's the only way I know to describe her.  I remember Yellan saying that she wasn't Fanelian – that the king had raised quite a stir when he married her."

            Jindra laughed, "Maybe she was related to our family."

            Bethanne smiled.  "I seem to recall hearing that they had children – sons I think."  She looked thoughtful for a moment and her voice held a sad note when she continued.  "I heard that he died a couple of years ago."

            "Who?"

            "The king."

            "No!  What happened?  Was he killed?"  Thoughts of Folken lying wounded in the forest came to Jindra's mind.  _What if he was injured trying to save his father? _

            "Nothing so dramatic I'm afraid.  He was sick; he died after a long illness."  Bethanne saw something flicker across her niece's face, "Why all this interest in the Fanelian royal family?"

            "No reason – just curious, that's all."

            "Hmmm.  Well if you want to know more about Fanelia, then I suggest you ask your grandfather.  Yellan travels there to trade all the time."  Glancing at the small clock on the mantle, Bethanne rose from her chair.  "It's much later than I thought, maybe we should call it a night – we can continue this in the morning."

            Jindra stood also, "Yes."  She embraced her aunt tightly.  "Thank you for being such a great friend."

            Bethanne returned the embrace.  "I'm glad I could be here for you.  Your mother and I used to be very close, but when she married and moved to Zaibach it was hard for us to stay in touch."  She gave Jindra a kiss on the cheek.  "The only thing I regret about my marriage is that Armas and I were never able to have children of our own.  It's nice to have a daughter for a while."  She yawned, "Oh, a little too much wine this evening.  Good night Jindra, I'll see you in the morning."  Bethanne left the room leaving the door open.

            Jindra looked out the window to the sea below.  The twin moons made the waters sparkle like glass.  Closing her eyes, she pictured Folken in her mind.  Taking a deep breath she sent her thoughts out into the night, hoping they would reach into the sorcerer's tower in Zaibach.  _Folken my love, my heart, my soul . . . I'll be home soon._


	10. Chapter Ten

_TEN_

            For Jindra Roh, the last three weeks of her stay in Palas seemed to drag on forever.  For the first time that she could remember, she actually wanted to leave the beautiful Asturian city and return to Zaibach.  She counted down the days until the ship would arrive to take home – back to her parents, but more importantly back to the man that she loved.  Her only regret was that she would be leaving Bethanne.  The two women had grown even closer in the past few weeks and Jindra had come to rely on her aunt's support and advice greatly.  She was still apprehensive about telling her mother about her relationship with Folken; but she felt better knowing that Bethanne would be with her in spirit, if not in person.

            She spent the days visiting her other relatives, sketching and painting, taking day trips out to the countryside, attending dinner parties and writing letters.  She had written her parents several times since arriving in Palas – her mother expected to receive regular reports about what she was doing.  She had also written twice to Coren, but had not received any replies.  Yet most surprisingly of all, she wrote several times a week to Folken.  They had agreed, before she left, to not have the letters sent to him at the sorcerer's tower; so instead they had arranged for them to be delivered to a small bookshop not far from the park where they usually met.  Jindra had been a regular customer at the shop for several years and was quite friendly with the old woman that owned it.  The woman had been more than happy to help the pair out and had promised to see that Jindra's letters reached Folken safely.

            The one thing she did not do however, was visit the university.  Any other time and it would have been one of the first places that she went to upon arriving in Palas, for it had once been her greatest wish to become a student there.  But now she wasn't sure if that was what she really wanted anymore.  Jindra's life had changed so much since she and Folken had fallen in love; and she knew that once she returned home, there would be even more changes to come.

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            Jindra felt the warm sun on her face as she wandered through the open market in the heart of the city.  She would be leaving Palas in a few days and was looking for a few gifts to bring back for her family.  She had already purchased several things for Coren, but she still couldn't seem to find just the right thing for her parents.  As a special thank you to Bethanne, Jindra also wanted to get something for her aunt as well.

            The young woman slowly made her way past the various stalls and pavilions, glancing down at the displayed goods as she passed by.  Jindra was investigating a rather nice woven rug when she noticed something glittering intently in the sunlight a few stalls down.  As she got nearer to the stall, she could see some of the items displayed on the table.  There was quite an assortment of jewelry, small leather goods, clothing, books and other decorative items.  What was surprising was that it was all from different countries on Gaea.  Most people passing by would have dismissed it all as nothing more than a collection of junk, but Jindra was intrigued by some of the more unfamiliar items and couldn't wait to investigate it all.

            When she reached the table, her hands went immediately for the small gleaming square in the middle.  As she picked it up, she realized that it was leather – a small purse of some type; but it was unlike any other leather she had seen or felt before.  _No, I have seen this before – it looks just like that coin purse that Mother had.  The one that was made out of . . ._

            "May I help you miss?"  Jindra had not even noticed the man sitting behind the table.  Smiling at her, he gestured towards the purse in her hands, "Nice piece, isn't it?"

            "Yes, it's beautiful," she replied as she turned the purse over in her hands.  Jindra watched the sunlight play over the scaled hide.

            "It's made out of . . ."

            "Dragon hide – yes, I know."  Jindra smiled at the man's startled expression.  "I've seen a purse similar to this one before."

            "Ah, then you know how hard it is to get dragon hide . . . very expensive . . ." The man trailed off, a thoughtful look on his face.

            _He's probably trying to figure out how much money I have – he knows I want it.  Jindra set the purse back down on the table and looked over some of the other items on display.  __He does have a lot of interesting things . . . those earrings are absolutely gorgeous – Mother would love them.  Picking up the earrings, Jindra inspected them as the man watched.  "These are quite unusual.  What type of stone is this?"_

            "It's called a sea stone.  The design is quite exquisite, isn't it?  The pearls are of an exceptional quality too."

            Putting the earrings back down on the table, she tried not to let her gaze linger on the dragon hide purse.  _Well, let's see how much of that Vardas merchant blood I really have – I probably won't have a copper left to my name, but it's worth a try.  "Hmmm . . .   how much are you asking for them?"_

            The two haggled over the price of the earrings for five or ten minutes until they reached an agreement.  Still ignoring the purse, Jindra picked up several other pieces and the bargaining started again.  It took about forty-five minutes, but she managed to find something for just about everyone.  Silently congratulating herself on her skills, Jindra was calculating how much money she had left when the man picked up the small purse.

            "Well miss, that just leaves this;" he smiled at her as he held the glistening hide in his hand.

            "I'm sorry . . . oh, the purse.  Well, I'm not sure that I want it . . ." The lie sounded weak, even to her.  The man arched his eyebrow, but said nothing.

            Suddenly a voice from behind Jindra spoke up.  "It's very rude to tease your customers, Estoban – especially the pretty ones."

            Turning, she found Dryden Fassa standing behind her.  "D-Dryden . . . you startled me."

            The young man stepped to Jindra's side and bowed slightly.  "Please forgive me; but you were doing so well that I didn't want to interrupt.  Your grandfather would be impressed with your bargaining skills."

            Jindra felt herself blush, "Really? Thanks – although I never really did anything like this before."

            Estoban cleared his throat and two looked up at him.  "Are we buying or not?"  He asked, still holding the purse.

            "What's this?"  Dryden held out his hand and the man placed the purse in it.  "Verrrry nice – dragon hide?"  Estoban nodded.  Dryden looked at Jindra, "You have very good taste; this is quite lovely."

            "Yes, it's beautiful . . . unfortunately I don't think I can afford it though."

            "Jindra – you're a Vardas – of course you can afford it."  Dryden laughed.

            Upon hearing the young man's statement, Estoban made a strangled sound in his throat.  Jindra looked at the man with concern, "Sir, are you alright?"

            "Uh, yes miss.  Did I hear right?  You're a Vardas?"  The man's voice held a note of worry – and fear.

            "Well yes . . . I guess I am.  Yellan Vardas is my grandfather."

            Estoban blanched at her words.  "Uh . . . uh, I uh don't want any trouble with your grandfather – I wasn't trying to cheat you.  Look miss, you've bought enough from me already – so why don't I give you a little break on the purse, huh?

            Jindra gave the man a puzzled look, "What do you mean?"

            "Name your price – what are you willing to pay for it?  All I ask is that you're fair and don't try to take advantage of me."

            Jindra looked at Dryden for help.  The young man shrugged his shoulders as he handed her the purse and then whispered in her ear.  Recalculating her finances, she nodded her head.  Looking up at the waiting Estoban, she named a price.  The man relaxed visibly, reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped perspiration from his brow.

            "Yes miss, that is quite agreeable – you're more than generous.  It's a bargain."  Holding out his hands, he took the purse from her and then gathered her other items together.  "Let me wrap all of this up for you; it'll only take a few minutes."  Estoban turned away and busied himself with packing up Jindra's purchases.

            Fishing coins out of her black satchel, she thanked Dryden for his help.  "I'm not sure what just happened, but thanks."

            "No problem – just trying to help out a lady in distress."

            "Distress – was I doing that badly?"

            "No actually; although I think you could have gotten those earrings a little cheaper – but we'll let Estoban make some profit today."  He gave her a rakish smile. 

            Estoban had come around to them and held out Jindra's package.  She started to reach for it, but Dryden took it instead.  "You can't count out your money with your hands full, now can you?"

            Jindra smiled her thanks and counted out the money for Estoban.  After pocketing the coins, he thanked her for her business, wished her well and hurried back behind the table.

            Shifting the package in his hands, Dryden asked "So, where to now?"

            "Here let me take that," Jindra reached for the bundle that he held.

            The young man shook his head, "No it's alright -- I don't mind helping you."  He smiled at her, "So, what's next on the agenda?"

            "Home I think; I've spent most of my money anyway.  So, if you want to hand me that;" she indicated the parcel that he still held, "I'll be on my way."

            Dryden gave her that impish smile again, "Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a nice young lady carry this all the way home?"

            Jindra glared at him, "Really Dryden, I think I can manage it."

            "Just humor me, okay?"

            Jindra sighed in annoyance, "Oh alright . . . c'mon then."  Without looking to see if he followed, she turned back and retraced her path through the market.

            Surprisingly Dryden was right at her side.  "It looks like you were doing some serious shopping; mind if I ask what the special occasion is."

            "Just some things for my family – I always like to bring something back for them."

            "I remember . . . you're just here visiting.  Where are you from?"

            "Zaibach."

            "Zaibach!  I knew that Vardas traded a lot with the empire, but I didn't know he had family there."  Jindra could hear the surprise in Dryden's voice as he spoke.

            "Yes, my mother is his daughter.  My father is the Vice-Secretary of Trade for the Zaibach Empire." She replied.

            "Wow . . . how did that happen?  Their marriage I mean."

            "My parents met when the treaty between Asturia and Zaibach was signed.  My father was here as part of the trade delegation.  He was only a junior under-secretary at the time, part of his job was to help arrange trade between the two countries."

            Dryden looked thoughtful, "Interesting . . . no wonder my old man was always jealous of your grandfather's business with Zaibach."

            "Your father does trade with the empire too, doesn't he?"

            "Yes, but not like Yellan Vardas does.  Your grandfather is a very rich man, did you know that?"

            "I think I'm just beginning to realize it; and from that man's reaction today, it seems he's a very powerful one too."

            "Well, from a merchant's point of view, money is power."

            The two walked quietly for a short time; until the silence was broken when Jindra's stomach started to growl.  _Guess I should have waited for breakfast.  We can't be that far from home – I can get something then.  Glancing at Dryden as he walked beside her, she saw that he was giving her a rather strange look._

            "What's that look for?"

            "Was that your stomach?" he asked.

            "I skipped out before breakfast," she replied a bit sheepishly.

            "We can stop and get something – I could do with some lunch myself."

            "No, that's okay – I'm sure I can last until I get home; besides, I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't have any money.  I probably couldn't buy a day-old crust of bread with what I have left."

            Smiling he said, "Hey, my treat . . . I think there's a decent pub around this next corner."  Turning down the street, he stopped at a door with a faded wooden sign hanging over it.  "C'mon, I'll buy you lunch."

            "Dryden . . ." Jindra started to say as she stood on the corner several feet away.

            "Jindra . . ." he replied, mocking her.  "Think of it as a welcome gift from one of Palas' most distinguished families to another."

            Jindra smiled, "Then you had better make it a going away gift then; I'm leaving for home the day after tomorrow."

            "Really?  Wow, that's too bad, I was going to ask you to dinner . . . in that case, I really must insist on buying you lunch."

            _Gods, he really is just as irritating as Coren.  Jindra smiled at the thought._

            "Pleeeeeease," Dryden said, batting his eyelashes at her.

            Jindra shook her head and threw up her hands as she walked towards him.  Balancing the package in one hand, Dryden Fassa opened the door to the pub for her with the other.

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            Jindra was packing up the last of her things when there was a knock on the bedroom door, "Come in."  Turning, she saw that it was Bethanne.  "I'm just finishing up.  Is the coach here already?"

            "Don't worry, you've still got a little more time.  I just wanted to see if you needed any help."

            "No, the maid did most of it last night; I'm just getting the last of my things together."  Jindra reached for a small wrapped package on the nightstand next to the bed and handed it to her aunt.  "What's this?" Bethanne asked, as she looked curiously at the box.

            "Just a little something to say thank you for letting me stay the past few weeks . . . but mostly for being such a good friend.  I really appreciate all that you've done for me."  Jindra gave Bethanne a quick hug.  "Go ahead, open it."

            Upon opening the box, Bethanne's mouth formed an "O".  "Jindra . . . it's beautiful, where did you find it?"  Lifting the small purse out of its cocoon of tissue paper, she watched as the sunlight sparkled on the scaled hide.

            "Do you like it?"

            "Like it?  I absolutely love it!  I've never seen anything like it before."

            "It's made from dragon hide – I got it in the market.  It was so beautiful I just had to buy it."  Jindra couldn't help smiling as she spoke.

            Bethanne's eyes widened, "Dragon hide?  But that's so expensive; Jindra you really shouldn't have spent so much money."

            "It's alright Bethanne; it didn't cost me as much as you think.  Turns out I'm not all that bad when it comes to bargaining – must be that Vardas blood coming through.  But as soon as I saw it, I knew that it would be the perfect gift for you."

            "It is . . . I love it."  Bethanne hugged Jindra and kissed her cheek, "Thank you."  Holding the purse up towards the window, she watched as the sunlight glistened over the scales like falling water.  "It is truly a treasure."

            Jindra's voice was serious as she spoke, "I'm going to miss you.  I hope that you'll come and stay with us in Zaibach – I know that Mother would love to see you too."

            "I will, don't worry.  I'll write you in a few weeks and let you know when; besides, I can't wait to meet this Folken of yours."  The two women were interrupted by a knock on the door.  "Come in," Bethanne called out.

            The door opened, admitting one of the upstairs maids.  The girl made a small curtsy, "Excuse me Madam, but the coach is here for Miss Roh."

            "Already?  I thought that we'd have more time.  Tell the driver that we'll be down in a few minutes; and have someone come up for these other bags as well."  The maid curtsied again and closed the door as she departed.

            A few minutes later there was another knock as the coach driver entered to retrieve Jindra's remaining luggage.  The man was about to leave when Bethanne spotted a large wrapped package in the corner by the bed.  Reaching for it, she stopped the man.  "Wait a moment, here is something else."  She was about to hand the parcel over when Jindra stopped her.  "No, wait!  That's coming with me."

            Bethanne gave her niece a curious look as she handed her the package.  She noticed the blush on Jindra's cheeks as the young woman put the parcel down on the bed.  "I-It's a gift . . . I don't want anything to happen to it."

            "A gift, huh?  Now I wonder . . . who could you be giving a special gift to?"  She arched her eyebrow at Jindra, "Should I try and guess?"

            The younger woman glared at her aunt, "Bethanne!"

            "I'm only joking, Jindra."  Bethanne smiled, "Well I hope he likes it – whatever it is."  Taking a quick look around the room, she continued; "I guess we should be getting you downstairs.  Have you got everything?"

            "Yes, I think so – although it seems like I always leave her with twice as much as I came."  Jindra gave her aunt another quick hug, "I'm going to miss you."

            ". . . and I you;" Bethanne replied as she returned her niece's embrace.  "But I'll visit soon, I promise."  She stepped back, "Are you sure you don't want me to ride to the dock with you?"

            "No, I'll be fine."  Jindra picked up her black leather satchel and the wrapped package from the bed.  "I guess I better get going, I don't want to keep the ship waiting."

            The two women walked downstairs and out to the waiting coach.  They embraced once more before the coachman helped Jindra up into the box.  "You better come and visit – I'll be waiting for your letter."

            "Give my love to your parents;" Bethanne smiled and waved, "and tell that young man of yours that I look forward to meeting him as well."  

            "I will," Jindra called back as the coach started down the street.


	11. Chapter Eleven

_ELEVEN_

Slamming the door to his quarters, Folken Lacour threw his books down onto the worktable. _Damn him! His jaw clenched, the young man paced about the small room trying to work off some of his anger. __I can't believe that I'm such a fool! I should have known better. Turning back to the worktable, he slammed his right fist down onto the pitted wooden surface. __Damn you Garufo! Startled by his own anger, Folken took several deep breaths as he tried to calm down._

Even after all this time, Folken was still disgusted by the manipulations and backstabbing that went on within the sorcerer's tower. It seemed as if everyone had some kind of scheme going on designed to help them rise higher within the tower ranks; and from every indication that the young apprentice could see, Emperor Dornkirk encouraged such behavior.

_Garufo . . . Folken knew that the man hated him, for it was no secret that the older man believed himself to be Dornkirk's destined apprentice and he deeply resented Folken for supplanting him in the emperor's favor. To make matters even worse, Dornkirk had assigned the man to oversee the pilot selections for the new guymelef prototypes – which meant that Folken had to work closely with him almost every day. While Garufo had never openly challenged him, the man had made no effort to hide his hatred and contempt for the young outlander. Folken had learned to always be on his guard when dealing with the older man, but this time he had allowed Garufo to get the better of him – and he had no one to blame but himself._

_But how much does he really know? What has he seen? Pacing again, Folken recalled the encounter that had taken place less then an hour ago._

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Garufo had cornered Folken in one of the hallways; and as always, the man had a sly look on his face. Yet today, he seemed even more smug than usual. "Ah Lacour, there you are." The young man could hear the contempt in the other man's voice. "I trust the new guymelef prototypes are almost ready for testing?"

"Yes; I was just meeting with Juri and Marco – we were making plans for the final set of tests."

"Good, good . . . in fact, that's what I wanted to speak with you about. I've been going over the list of pilot candidates for the new units and I've made my choices. I'd like to get started with them as soon as possible."

"When?"

"I'd like to have the new pilots at the training center within the next week. I really think we should start as soon as possible – this project has taken far too much time as it is."

"N-Next week?" Folken couldn't hide the hesitation in his voice.

"Yes . . . do you have a problem with that Lacour?" Garufo slyly smiled.

"Well . . . uh . . . I-I have something else scheduled for next week – it's quite important." Jindra was to return home then and he had already made arrangements to see her.

Garufo had a dangerous gleam in his eye, "More important that Emperor Dornkirk's plans?"

"Uh . . . n-no," Folken stammered under the man's gaze. "I'm sure I can reschedule it."

"I hope that it won't cause you any personal trouble . . ." the older man smirked at him.

"P-P-Personal trouble . . . I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

Garufo narrowed his eyes, "Oh, I'm sure you understand completely. You may think that you're clever Lacour, but you're going to fall. Take my word for it – you will; and I'll be there to see it. We'll see how much of the emperor's favor you have then."

Folken could feel the anger building within; _he's trying to bait me into saying something stupid. I won't give in to him though. Trying to muster up more confidence then he really had, Folken looked the older man in the eye. "Your petty jealousy is such a bore Garufo; it's a pity that you can't put that same kind of effort into your work."_

The man's face started to turn an odd shade of purplish red, "Have your fun Lord Folken," he said with a sneer as he spit out Folken's name. "You'll get yours soon enough – then we'll see how much you like it then." 

Garufo turned away and took several steps down the hall before stopping and looking back. "Oh by the way . . . one of the pilots that I've selected is a friend of yours I believe . . . Coren Roh? He has a sister that you're also acquainted with, doesn't he?" He gave Folken a cold, hateful smile. "The world is such a small place – don't you agree?" Laughing he turned and started back down the hallway.

Folken felt the sweat break out on his brow. _Coren . . . Jin . . . Hurrying towards his rooms, he had felt the anger within him grow – as if he could explode at any minute. Flinging open the door to his rooms, he shut it with a slam._

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Folken stopped pacing as he reached the middle of his front room. "If he hurts either one of them . . . by the gods, he'll pay – if it's the last thing I ever do, he'll pay. 

Clenching his fists, Folken felt his nails bite into the tender flesh of his left palm. Looking down, he opened his hand and stared at the small half-moon shaped cuts that were slowly welling up with blood. _He'll pay in blood – I swear it._


	12. Chapter Twelve

_TWELVE_

            Jindra was a nervous bundle of energy and she couldn't sit still as she waited for Folken to arrive.  Soon she would feel his arms around her once again and as she looked out the window she sighed, imagining the feel of his lips on hers.  She saw that the rain was coming down quite heavily and she glanced at the wrapped package on the table beside her, glad that she had arrived before the downpour had started.  _I can't stand this waiting!  Folken where are you?  You should be here by now.   She began pacing the small room again, unable to contain herself._

            _I'm so glad that Mrs. Marchment agreed to let us meet here; she's been such a help.  Mrs. Marchment was the owner of the bookshop that Jindra had sent her letters to Folken while she had been in Palas.  Jindra had stumbled upon the shop several years ago and had become fast friends with the kindly widowed owner.  The shop itself was located in the converted first floor of Mrs. Marchment's large old house.  The main sales floor was filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves crammed with tomes on just about every subject imaginable and from every corner of Gaea as well.  Mrs. Marchment had an almost photographic memory and could locate just about any book in the shop, rarely needing to consult her neat cataloging system.  The main floor also included several small private reading rooms and it was in one such room that Jindra Roh currently waited._

            The kindly woman had been waiting when Jindra had come to the shop two weeks ago after returning from Palas.  The young woman had noticed the sad look on Mrs. Marchment's face and she felt her heart sink when the woman handed her a folded sheet of paper.  Jindra immediately recognized the handwriting:

_My dearest Jin,_

_            I'm so sorry, but I won't be able to meet you in the shop today as we had planned.  The emperor is sending me north for a week or so.  I'll be helping with the tests on a new guymelef design.  You don't know how much it hurts me to write this.  I've missed you so much and want nothing more than to hold you in my arms again.  I would be with you now if it were at all possible._

_            I will meet you here two weeks from today; I've already made all the arrangements with Mrs. Marchment.  Please don't be angry with me.  My heart dies a little each day that we are apart.  Know that I love you, now and forever._

_Folken_

            Jindra had felt crushed after reading the note.  She was angry, but she really couldn't blame it on Folken – _after all, didn't I just leave him alone for the past eight weeks.  Two weeks isn't that long of time – on a calendar anyway . . . but it'll still seem like forever._

            Jindra took a break from her pacing to look out the window again.  The rain seemed to be coming down even harder – pounding sheets that made it impossible to see anything outside of a few feet away.  Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the sky, making her jump.  Silently chiding herself for being afraid, Jindra heard the door open behind her.  Turning, she watched a cloaked figure enter the room.  Startled, she stammered "I-I-I'm sorry . . . this room is being used.  You – you'll have to leave."

            "Leave?"  Slowly the figure raised it arms and pulled down the hood of the cloak.  "A guymelef couldn't drag me out of this room right now."  Smiling at Jindra, Folken shook water from his hair.

            "Folken!"  Jindra pressed her hands to her stomach to stop the fluttering she felt.  Removing his cloak, Folken left the dripping garment on one of the wooden chairs that surrounded the small reading table.  

            The two lovers stood and stared at one another for a few moments before rushing into each other's arms.  Folken crushed Jindra to his chest so hard that she could hardly breathe.  Lifting her face up towards his, she sought out his lips with her own eager mouth.  Brushing her lips quickly, Folken then covered her face with kisses.  He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her nose and even nuzzled at her neck.  Jindra felt each kiss as if it were at hot brand on her skin.  She could hear Folken murmuring as he slowly made his way back to her waiting mouth.  As their lips met, Jindra then became the aggressor as she forced her way into her mouth.  She sought out his tongue and gently sucked on it.  Folken groaned deep in his throat and gripped her tighter in his arms.  After a few minutes, Jindra reluctantly released his mouth and he found himself gasping for breath.

            Looking up into his wine-dark eyes, she raised her hands and ran them over the contours of his face, "Gods how I missed you."  She let her hands smooth down to his chest as she rested her head against his damp coat.  Folken rested his cheek on the top of her head and the two quietly held each other.  The two stood entwined for several minutes until Folken finally found his voice.  "Every night that you were gone, I dreamed of holding you in my arms like this."

            Raising her head from his chest, Jindra pulled his head down and gave him a light kiss.  "And every night I dreamed of feeling your lips on mine."  Releasing her from his embrace, Folken took both of her hands in his.  "You've let your hair grow."

            Jindra felt herself blush, "And you've cut yours."  Breaking his hold on one of her hands, she reached up to touch his pale hair.  The long, floppy bangs that had constantly been in his eyes were now a spiky shock of hair that made the lines of his face seem more angular.  Smiling, she gently ruffled his hair.  "I kind of like it though – it looks kind of wild."

            Returning her smile, Folken gave her another kiss.  "Why don't we sit down?"  Without releasing her other hand, he pulled her towards an old sofa against the wall.  As the two were settling themselves, there was a knock on the door.  Folken gave Jindra a questioning look, but she could only shake her head.  Rising, Folken went to the door and opened it.

            "Oh Master Folken!  I brought you some tea – you looked soaked through.  I thought you could use something to warm you up."  Stepping past the young man, Mrs. Marchment carried in a small tea tray and placed it on the table.  Giving Jindra a knowing wink, the old woman quietly left and closed the door softly behind her.

            Jindra rose and joined Folken at the table.  Reaching for the small porcelain pot, she poured out two cups and handed one to Folken.  After taking a few sips, Jindra put her cup down and retrieved the wrapped package on the table where she had left it earlier. 

            "What's that?" Folken asked as he reached to refill his own cup.

            Jindra gave him a shy smile, "It's for you."

            "Me – what is it?"

            "Just a little something."

            "Why?"  He gave her a puzzled look.

            "Does there always have to be a reason for everything?  How about, just because I love you – that's why."  She handed him the parcel.

            Folken took the package and started to unwrap it.  What had appeared as one large item was actually two.  Taking the smaller one first, Folken undid the waxed paper and twine – inside he found a book.  Opening the front cover however, he discovered only blank pages.  As he ran his fingertips over the pages, he could feel that they were made from a high-quality parchment.  Closing the volume, he looked at the heavily embossed leather cover.  Once again running his hand over the leather, he was amazed at its softness.  Looking closely he could see that the embossed figures were . . . _dragons?  But how could she know that?_

            Glancing up at Jindra, he could see the worry in her eyes.  "It's a journal – do you like it?  I thought you could use it for your work if you didn't want to use it for a diary."

            "It's exquisite; but where did you ever find it?  It's very unusual."

            "In Palas – there was a man in the market there and he had the most wonderful things.  I thought that you might like it."

            "I do, really . . . it's just that . . ." Folken trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

            Jindra moved closer and touched his arm, "What's wrong?"

            "Why did you pick this?  Why did you pick something with dragons on it?"  Folken tried to keep his voice neutral, he didn't want to upset Jindra.

            "Because of you – because you're from Fanelia; Bethanne told me that they used to call Fanelia the land of dragons.  Did I do something wrong?"

            Taking her hand, Folken replied.  "No, no – it's a wonderful gift; I mean it.  You just startled me with it, that's all.  I haven't really thought about Fanelia in a long time."  He kissed Jindra's hand before releasing it.

            Putting the journal to the side, he picked up the larger, remaining package.  As the paper fell away, Jindra watched Folken's eyes widen and he let out a low whistle.  "Jin . . . this is beautiful.  Did you do this?"  In his hands was a framed watercolor of the Palas harbor mouth.

            Jindra blushed and looked down, "Yes . . . do you like it?  It's the view from my aunt's sitting room – it looks right out onto the harbor."

            Running his fingertips over the painting, Folken marveled at her talent.  "It's absolutely beautiful.  I've never seen the ocean – it's almost as if I'm right there in person."

            Jindra looked up at him, "Every time I looked out the window, I wished that you could be there to see it with me;" she said shyly.

            Carefully placing the painting on the table, Folken took Jindra in his arms and gave her a slow, deep kiss.  "They're both wonderful gifts – thank you."

            Taking her hand, he once again led her to the sofa.  The pair spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled together while the storm continued to lash outside.  Jindra told Folken about Palas and what she did during her visit there.  He told her a little about the guymelef testing and his trip to the north.  He did not mention however, that he had seen Coren at the training facility during the tests.

            Jindra's brother had been surprised to see him as well and Folken had sensed a coldness in Coren's manner that had not been there before.  _It's because of my relationship with Jin – she said that he didn't approve.  Coren had asked him not to mention the pilot training to his sister, as we wanted to surprise her with the news himself.  Folken had also kept an eye on Garufo, but the man had made no moves towards Coren.  __Yet.  Folken hated himself for keeping things from Jindra, but he would not involve her or Coren in his private feud with the sorcerer if at all possible.  He would try to protect them at all costs._

            Pushing all thoughts of Garufo, guymelefs and the tower from his mind, Folken focused on Jindra as she spoke.  _Gods, could one person really love another as much as I love her?  My parents loved each other so deeply.  Could she and I ever have that kind of life together?_

            "Folken . . ."

            "Huh?  Oh, sorry . . ."

            "You're a million miles away.  Am I boring you that much?"

            Taking her face between his hands, he smiled.  "No . . . I was just trying to decide on whether or not I wanted to kiss you now or if I should wait until later."

            Giving him that coy little smile that he loved, she replied.  "Well, I'm quite partial to right now myself."  Taking her in his arms, Folken once again felt his body shudder as her mouth opened to his questing tongue.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_THIRTEEN_

            Doreena Roh was just finishing her breakfast when her daughter quietly joined her in the dining room.  "You're up early this morning."  Looking at Jindra more closely, Doreena thought that she looked a bit pale.  "Are you feeling alright?  You look a bit out of sorts."

            "I'm fine, Mother.  I just didn't sleep very well last night."  Jindra helped herself to a cup of tea and some toast from the sideboard.  Sitting in the chair next to her mother, she reached for the jam on the table.

            "What's wrong, dear?  It's not like you to lose sleep; you usually sleep like a log."  Reaching out, she brushed the hair from her daughter's eyes and pushed it behind her ear.

            Speaking around a mouthful of toast and jam, Jindra replied.  "Nothing really – I just couldn't seem to fall asleep."  Picking up her cup, she sipped at the cooling tea.  Glancing up, she found her mother watching her intently.  "What – what's wrong?"

            Folding her hands on the table in front of her, Doreena gave her daughter a measured look.  "Why don't you tell me."

            "What's that supposed to mean?"

            Doreena arched her brow, "What's going on Jindra?  You've got that guilty look on your face – the one that you get whenever you've done something that you don't want to tell me about.  So, what is it?"

            _I was going to tell her anyway – eventually . . . guess I might as well do it now.  Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Jindra looked up at her mother.  "I – I've . . . I've met someone . . . and I'm in love with him."_

            Doreena's face was neutral, "I see . . . I take it that you are not speaking of Anton Lefebvre?"

            Jindra shook her head, "No, it's not Anton.  I know that you like him, but . . . but I just don't have those kinds of feelings for him."

            "So you refused him."

            Jindra was startled, "You—you know about that?"

            "Jindra, do you really think I don't know what goes on in my own house?  I guessed as much when he stormed out of here that afternoon; aside from the fact that he hasn't been back here since.  I actually felt sorry for him; he was deeply in love with you."

            The younger woman couldn't meet her mother's eyes.  "I know . . . I felt sorry too.  But I didn't love him and I don't think that I ever could – at least not in that way.  I didn't want to hurt him, but . . ."

            Doreena reached out her hand and put it on her daughter's arm.  "I know; it's not an easy thing to do."  Taking her hand away, she smiled at Jindra.  "So, what about this other man – tell me about him."

            Jindra reached out for her mother's hand and held it.  "His name is Folken – Folken Lacour."

            "Lacour?  I don't believe I've heard the name before.  Is he a cadet at the academy?"

            "No, he's a . . . student."  Jindra hoped that her mother didn't notice the hesitation.

            "A student?  How did you meet him?"

            "Through Coren actually; he was the young man that Coren was teaching to fence before he left."

            Doreena thought, "Yes . . . I remember him telling your father about it."  Jindra saw the color drain from her mother's face, "But he was a . . . NO!"  Snatching her hand from her daughter's grasp, she brought both her fists up towards her chest.  "Jindra, no -- tell me it's not the same man!  You can't . . . but he's a . . . a . . . I can't even bring myself to say it!"

            "Mother, please just let me . . ."

            "No!  I don't want to hear anymore.  You are not to see him again – I forbid it!  Do you hear me?  I can't believe that you could be so stupid."

            Jindra felt as if someone had just slapped her.  She could feel the anger building as she tried to control her voice.  "Mother . . . please . . . I know this isn't what you wanted for me; but for the first time in my life I'm happy – so happy.  I don't know how you can judge him when you've never even met him.  At least meet him before you turn against him."

            "NO!  I will not have one of those – those . . . I will not have him in my house."

            Jindra could no longer control her anger, "Well it's a little too late for that – he's already been here."

            "How dare you!  Do you want to ruin us all?"

            "Ruin you?  I bet that's probably what Grandfather Yellan said when you wanted to marry father.  That didn't seem to stop _you, did it?"_

            "Yellan?  What does your grandfather have to do with any of this?"

            "Nothing – but it's the same situation, isn't it?  Bethanne told me . . ."

            Doreena cut her off, "Bethanne – I should have known.  Leave it to my meddlesome sister to stir the pot up.  Is this what you were plotting while you were away in Palas?"

            "No!  I – I just needed to talk to someone . . . and Bethanne was there.  Don't blame her, Mother – she's the one that convinced me to tell you in the first place.  I wasn't going to, but she was sure that you would understand; she said that you would at least hear me out."

            Doreena sighed and her eyes softened slightly, "Jindra . . . please try to understand . . . you don't know what you've gotten yourself into.  The black tower – are you mad?  Nothing good can ever come of it – you're only hurting yourself."

            Jindra reached for her mother's hand once again, "Folken and I love each other . . . he's the only man that I want – ever.  At least meet him – please try to give him a chance.  He's not at all like you believe, you'll see.  Coren will tell you the same; he knows Folken – the two of them were good friends."

            "Your brother knew about this and he did nothing to stop you?  I can't believe it."

            "It's true . . . he – he saw us together, in the garden.  He wasn't too happy about it, but he understood – he just wants me to be happy."

            "Our garden – oh Jindra, how could you?  I can't believe you would invite a man to our house without our knowledge."

            Jindra let go of her mother's hand, "Mother!  Folken was here the night of Coren's party – he was Coren's guest.  It's not like I invited him here to carry on some illicit affair in your garden.  Do you really have that low of an opinion of me?"

            "What a thing to say to me!  I'm your mother . . ."

            Feeling drained, Jindra crossed her arms on table top and put her head down.  Her voice was slightly muffled when she spoke.  "I can't argue with you anymore, Mother.  I thought that you would understand, especially because of what you and Father went through . . . I thought that you would at least give Folken a chance."  She fell silent for a few moments.  Bringing her head up a little, she looked at her mother, "I won't stop seeing him . . . and if it means that I have to leave this house to do so, then I will.  I love you – and I respect you . . . but I won't let you control my life anymore."  Without another word, she slowly got up from her chair and left the room.

            The room was still as Doreena Roh sat motionless at the table.  She did not even notice when the maid came in to remove the breakfast dishes; nor did she stir when the morning mail was placed in front of her some time later.

            It was quite some time before the older woman finally moved.  Leaving the mail untouched, she rose and left the room.  Walking to the entrance hall, she quietly ascended the stairs to the second floor and went down the hall towards her daughter's bedroom.  Taking a deep breath, she softly knocked on the door.  "Jindra . . . may I come in?  I'd like to talk to you."  She waited a few moments for a response.  "Please Jindra, I think that we really should . . ."

            Before she could finish, her daughter opened the door.  Doreena looked at Jindra's tear-streaked face.  "Jindra, I'm . . ."  Crying, the young woman threw herself into her mother's arms.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_FOURTEEN_

            Jindra Roh wound through the crowded street at a hurried pace.  _I can't believe how late it is – I should have left Laurelle's house long before now . . . but the baby was so cute . . .           Laurelle Dunbar was one of Jindra's oldest friends.  She was three years older, married, and had just recently given birth to her first child.  Jindra had been so anxious to see the baby that she hadn't realized how fast the afternoon had slipped by._

            _I can't be late – not today.  Today Folken would be calling at her house and meeting her mother for the first time.  It hadn't been easy, but Jindra had managed to convince her mother to at least meet the young man before passing judgment on him.  Although she knew that Doreena still did not approve of their relationship, she was glad that her mother had at least agreed to the introduction.  Yet as hard as it had been to convince her mother, Jindra had found it three times harder to get Folken to agree.  She could understand all of his reasons not to, but she was adamant and would not take "no" for an answer.  After countless hours of arguing, he had finally given in and agreed.  Reluctantly of course, but she was more than willing to take what she could get at that point.  Jindra knew that this meeting wasn't going to be easy for either one of them; but deep down, she felt that it was the right thing to do.  __I don't' want to hide anymore . . . I just hope this doesn't turn out to be the world's biggest mistake.  Why are the streets so crowded today?_

            Trying to pick up her pace, Jindra almost collided with a man coming out of one of the shop doors to her left.  Without looking up, she muttered "Sorry" and was moving past when she heard a familiar voice call her name.  Stopping, she turned and looked up into an equally familiar pair of dark blue eyes.  Startled, Jindra found that the man she had almost bumped into had been Anton Lefebvre.

            "Jindra?  I thought it was you."

            "Anton . . . I'm sorry; I wasn't watching where I was going."

            "It's alright."  He smiled a little as he spoke.  "How are you?  How is your family?"

            "We're all doing well, thanks for asking."  Jindra hoped that her voice didn't betray her nervousness.  "How are things going with you at the academy?"

            "Very good – I'll be graduating soon.  I expect to receive my commission within the next month or so."

            "That's wonderful, congratulations."  _This is too weird – after everything that we said to each other, are we supposed to be friends now?_

            "Have you heard anything from Coren lately?  I'm sorry to admit that I haven't really kept in touch with him since he left."

            "I had a letter from him a couple of weeks ago; he's doing really well.  He's been accepted for guymelef training.  He sounded very excited about it."

            "Pilot training, huh?  That's excellent news – he really deserves it."  Anton's smile widened as he spoke.

            _Why is he being so nice to me?  "Anton . . . I don't want to seem rude, but I really need to be going.  We're expecting company this afternoon and I'm already running late as it is."_

            Anton gave her a measured look before dropping his eyes.  "Jindra . . . I don't want to keep you . . . but . . . could I speak with you – for just a minute or two?"

            "I'm sorry Anton, but I really can't . . ."

            "Please Jindra, just two minutes – that's all I ask."  His voice pleaded with her.

            "I don't think I want to hear anymore of what you might have to say to me."

            Jindra could see that her words had stung him.  "I deserved that, I know."  Anton's voice was soft as he spoke.  "There's no excuse for my behavior towards you that day.  I was hurt and angry, but it was my pride that was hurt the most.  It was my damn pride that said those things to you, Jindra.  All I've thought about since that hateful day was how much I hurt you."  

            She could hear the anguish in the young man's voice and see it on his face as he spoke.  "Jindra . . . I – I want to ask you . . . I want to ask you to forgive me – if you can."

            "Anton . . ." She sighed.

            "I didn't realize it until later, but that by hurting you I was also hurting your family – and I never meant that.  My own family is so far away and I miss them . . . your parents invited me into their house and treated me like a member of the family.  You don't know how much that meant to me.  But by insulting you, I insulted them as well."  He paused and turned his face away from her.  Jindra could see him take several deep breaths.

            When Anton turned back to face her, she thought that he had regained some of his normal composure.  "My honor and my pride are all that I have.  You've seen what my pride can do; please help me preserve what little honor I have left.  All I ask is that you please accept my most humble apology."  He gave her a formal bow as he finished.

            Jindra didn't know what to say.  She felt that he was being sincere; but all she could hear in her head were all the hurtful things that he had said to her that day in her parent's library.  _Would I have said those things to him if our places had been reversed?  Am I so petty that I want him to suffer?  He looks like he's punished himself more than enough as it is.  Not wanting to look at Anton's sad, almost pleading eyes, Jindra turned her face away and looked up at the sky for a few moments._

            "Anton . . . we were friends once – and I'll always be grateful for your companionship after Coren left; and because of that friendship, I want to believe that you mean what you say."  She turned back to face him, "I-I will accept your apology, but things can never be as they were between us – I hope you understand."

            Anton's face fell a little.  "I understand . . . but if I see you on the street and say hello, will you at least acknowledge me?"

             "Of course I will."  _Gods, he looks so sad._

            "Then that will be enough.  Thank you, Jindra and I apologize for holding you up as well.  If you see Coren or the next time that you write to him, please tell him that I said hello and congratulations on the pilot training."

            She gave him a small smile, "I will; I'm sure he'd like to hear from you."

            Anton bowed to her once again, "Also, please give my regards to your parents – I'll always be grateful for their kindness and hospitality."  He gave her one last sad looking smile, "Perhaps I will see you again; but if not, take care Jindra."  Turning on his heel, he walked away and was soon lost from sight on the busy sidewalk.

            "Take care Anton."  Jindra whispered after him.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_FIFTEEN_

            Jindra and Doreena Roh were seated in the front parlor awaiting Folken Lacour's arrival.  Despite her unexpected conversation with Anton Lefebvre in the street, Jindra had made it home in plenty of time to freshen up and change her clothes.  Much to her mother's dismay however, she had refused to wear a "proper" dress and instead chose one of her usual trouser/overdress outfits.  Albeit this one was of a better cloth and cut then most; and Jindra thought that the color was quite complimentary.  The young woman kept glancing at the clock on the mantle and jumped a bit from her chair when she heard the brass knocker on the front door pound.

            "Sit down," Doreena's voice was firm.

            "But Mother . . ."

            "I said sit.  A woman should never run after a man like a lovesick puppy.  Make him come to you, always."

            "Mother!"

            Doreena gave her daughter a smug smile, "If you want to be treated like a woman grown, then you should learn to behave like one – not running after men like some kind of a hoyden."

            Before Jindra could respond, there was a knock on the door.  Without waiting for a reply, the door opened admitting the footman.  "Madam, there is a young gentleman here to call on you and the young miss."  Moving aside, the man continued.  "Master Folken Lacour."  Folken entered the doorway as the man gave his name.  Bowing to Doreena, the footman left and closed the door behind him.

            Rising for her seat, Jindra's mother held out her right hand to the young man.  "Welcome to our home; I'm Doreena Roh."  Jindra rose from her chair as her mother spoke.  She nervously watched the two as they regarded one another.  Jindra noticed that Folken was not wearing his usual apprentice robes and she was glad that he had the forethought to change his clothing before coming.  His outfit was plain, but well cut; and he wore a mantle about his shoulders that trailed down to cover his right arm and hand.

            Bowing deeply, Folken took Doreena's offered hand in his own left one.  "Thank you for the invitation and the welcome.  I'm most honored to finally meet you."  He released her hand and dared a small smile.  Turning towards Jindra, he took her hand and kissed it.  Jindra felt herself blush as he gave her a wink, before turning back towards her mother.

            "Please, have a seat."  The older woman indicated the chair next to Jindra's.  Folken waited for the two women to reseat themselves first.  "I regret that my husband isn't here to meet you, but he's out of the country right now.  But that may be for the best at the moment."

            Folken's face remained neutral, "I'm sorry as well.  Coren always spoke so highly of his father that I always wanted to meet him."  Doreena nodded slightly, "My husband is very proud of Coren – he has done quite well since leaving the academy."

            "Yes; Jindra told me that he had been accepted for pilot training.  It is quite an honor, I'm sure he'll do well."

            The three sat in an uneasy silence for a few minutes before Doreena spoke.  "Jindra dear, would you please go and see what is keeping the tea tray?  I gave specific instructions to have it brought when your guest arrived."

            "I'm sure that the maid will be here with it any moment."  Jindra was loathe to leave the two alone.  She could feel the tension between them and she was afraid of what her mother might say to Folken in her absence.

            'Still, it should have been here already.  Please go and see to it, will you."  Her mother's voice was firm.  Jindra gave Folken a quick glance and he gave her the slightest of nods in response.  Glaring at her mother, she rose.  "Please excuse me, I'll be right back."  Giving them both a backward glance, she shut the door as she left.

            Doreena and Folken stared warily at one another for several seconds; but it was Folken who broke the silence first.  "Obviously you wished to speak with me alone.  I would prefer to do the same with you as well."

            The older woman arched her eyebrow, "This meeting was not my idea, and I can assure you of that.  But my daughter can be the most stubborn of children when she sets her mind to it."

            Folken nodded in agreement.  "Yes, she can be.  But perhaps this is for the best; I know that it hurt Jindra to keep this from you."

            "My daughter and I never had secrets from one another until now."

            The young man looked down at the floor.  "I will take the blame for that, if you wish."  Looking back up, he continued.  "I don't want to drive your family apart – that's the last thing that I want."

            "But you already have.  This – this – relationship," Doreena almost spat the word out; "has caused such a rift between the two of us that I don't think it can ever be healed.  I don't even want to think about my husband's reaction when he finally learns of it."

            Folken did not reply immediately; but when he finally did, his voice was low.  "I never meant for this to happen – I never planned to fall in love with Jindra.  As much as I tried to deny my feelings, they just grew stronger.  Even as I fell in love with her, I knew that it was wrong – but how can you deny your heart?"

            Doreena sighed and Folken thought that her voice sounded a bit softer.  "Falling in love is a wondrous and powerful thing.  Sometimes it's just so overwhelming that you lose sight of everything else.  But you can't let your heart blind you to the world around you – you can't let it blind you to the consequences of your actions."

            "Don't you think that I know that?"  Folken's voice rose.  "Everyday I think about what would happen if someone from the tower found out about Jindra.  I gave my word to serve the tower, but I gave my heart to your daughter.  You can't begin to imagine the conflict that I fight within myself everyday."  Doreena could see the hardness in the young man's eyes as he finished speaking.

            "No, perhaps I can't.  But try to put yourself in my position.  How would you feel if this were happening to your daughter?  How would you feel knowing that your child was walking down a path that could only lead to pain and heartbreak?"

            "I'm sure I'd feel much the same as you do.  But I'd try to give that child the benefit of the doubt and allow her to walk that path if she chose to."

            Doreena snorted, "It's very easy to sit here and say those words; but when you have children of your own, you'll realize just how hard it is to actually mean them."  Sighing, she continued.  "Perhaps this is my fault . . . I let Jindra have her way too much.  I let her run wild with Coren and by the time I tried to rein her in, it was too late."

            Folken's voice was soft, "I don't think I would have fallen in love with Jin if she didn't have that streak of wildness in her.  You should be very proud of your daughter, Mrs. Roh.  She is a very giving and caring person.  There is something in her that draws people to her – she has that very rare ability to look past the physical and see into the true heart of a person."

            Doreena regarded him silently for a few moments.  "Why did you come here?  Why did you come to Zaibach?"

            Folken was startled, "I-I was brought here to be healed.  I would have died if I hadn't of been brought here."

            "Jindra told me some of what happened to you – about your . . . injury.  It appears that you have recovered, so why do you stay?  Why don't you return to your own homeland?"

            Folken could not meet Doreena's eyes.  "I-I . . . I can't return home.  To my family, I'm dead.  It's best if they continue to believe that."  He could feel the older woman's eyes on him as he finished and he was afraid of what her next question would be.

            Doreena however, startled him once again.  "So you pledged yourself to the sorcerer's as payment for saving your life?"  Folken slowly nodded his head.  "You're willing to risk the wrath of the black tower for something as frivolous as love?"  Her voice held a note of sarcasm that the young man didn't like.

            Trying to control his anger, Folken looked directly at her as he replied.  "What I feel for your daughter isn't frivolous, Mrs. Roh.  Jindra and I have a bond that transcends mere love – she is a part of me . . . a part of my soul, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her.  So yes, I am willing to risk everything to be with her.  I would gladly give up my very life to protect her, she means that much to me."

            Doreena looked at him hard in the face, as if searching for something.  Her mouth was a grim line as she spoke.  "I can see that you are sincere in your feelings, but you must understand that there is no way that I can approve of this.  I know that Jindra will defy me and continue to see you.  She is a woman grown and although she still lives in my house, she will do as she pleases."

            Folken opened his mouth to speak, but Doreena waved her hand at him.  "No, let me finish.  You, more than any of us, know what will happen if and when the two of you are found out.  My husband's influence may be enough to save Jindra, but you will have to fend for yourself.  I will not allow you to drag my family down when you fall.  I may not have been born here, but I've lived here long enough to know that the black tower deals quite harshly with those that break its rules or go against it.  My daughter's reputation will be in tatters, but at least she will be alive – which is more than you could probably hope for."

            She looked at him for a few moments, "But then again, perhaps you will prove all of us wrong.  For my daughter's sake, I would hope so; but I am not that much of an optimist.   When all of this comes crashing down, you will have to face it alone Folken Lacour – no one in my family will raise a finger to help you, I can assure of that much."

            Folken's voice was hard, "As I said, no one will harm Jindra as long as I have a breath left in my body.  She and I belong together and we will be.  I don't know how yet, but I will find a way.  I can't promise you that it won't mean leaving Zaibach, but I won't force her to leave her family if she doesn't want to either.  But one way or another, she and I will be together.  Although I haven't asked her yet, I intend to make Jindra my wife."  He saw Doreena's jaw tighten as he finished and her eyes flashed with anger.

            The two regarded one another silently, each finally knowing where the other stood.  Neither one was happy, but at least they had been able to remain somewhat civil.  That was how Jindra found them when she finally opened the door.  She had been out in the hall listening, and although she couldn't actually understand the words being spoken, she could hear their voices.  She was relieved that she didn't hear any shouting, but worried that the two had sounded so calm.  Looking at her mother and then at Folken, she was even more confused by the cool neutral expression that each wore.  _I have a bad feeling about this – they're both way too calm..  As she returned to her seat, the group was interrupted by the maid with the long delayed tea tray._

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            Anton Lefebvre stood on the corner across from the Roh house.  He had followed Jindra home, curious about who would be visiting her that afternoon.  He was not altogether surprised to see Folken Lacour step from a cab and enter the house_.  Bold as brass, isn't he?  I can't believe Doreena Roh would even let him in the house._

            Quietly, he continued his vigil and was rewarded about an hour later when the door opened.  He saw Jindra and the outlander as they stood together on the front stoop talking.  Anton watched as Folken took Jindra's hand and brought it to his lips.  He watched as the two embraced and kissed, deeply.  He watched as Jindra took Folken's hand and walked with him down the front steps and walk to a waiting cab.  He watched and clenched his fists as Folken kissed Jindra again, this time on the forehead.  He watched Folken climb into the cab and he watched as Jindra turned away and returned to her house.  It was about then that he realized her had been grinding his teeth.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_SIXTEEN_

            "C'mon slow poke!  I'll race you!"  Jindra yelled back to Folken as she urged her mount forward with her heels.  The young woman let out a wild laugh as the horse took off at a gallop.

            "Jin!  Don't – Jin!"  _Damn that girl!  Folken let out an exasperated sound and kicked his horse into a gallop.  __When I catch up to her . . . He found himself smiling at the implications of that unfinished thought.  Keeping low over his horses' neck, he watched as Jindra drew even farther away._

            Folken couldn't remember the last time that he had gone riding just for pleasure.  Certainly not since he had been in Zaibach; the sorcerers in the tower never did anything for pleasure.  When Jindra had suggested going riding outside the city, he had immediately agreed.  He had been so overwhelmed with his studies and other work in the tower lately, that the two of them had not been able to spend much time together.

            Jindra had met him at the western gate to the city with the horses and they had started out towards the lightly forested hills just after breakfast.  The early spring air was crisp, but had warmed as the sun rose up higher overhead.  For the first time in so long, Folken Lacour felt nothing but joy – joy in the day, the ride, the sun, the wind and most importantly, in being with the woman that he loved.

            Folken rounded the bend in the road to see Jindra just a few yards away.  It appeared that she had pulled her horse to a stop and was waiting for him to catch up.  Looking back in his direction, she waved and he could see that she was laughing.  As he got closer, Jindra urged her horse forward once again, this time at a slower trot.  When Folken finally reached her side, the pair slowed their horses to a walk.  Jindra was still laughing at him, "I thought you said you could ride."

            "I can ride – I just haven't done so in a while."  Folken tried to frown, but her smile was infectious.

            "What, since you were ten?  Guess I should have picked a less spirited horse."

            Folken reached out and pulled Jindra's horse to a stop with his own.  "I prefer more spirit, not less."  Jindra arched her brow at him.  Smiling, he pulled her towards him and kissed her.

            The young woman pulled away, "Alright you – enough of that.  We've still got a little farther to go."

            "Just where are we going by the way?"

            "You'll see.  It's still a few more miles."  Jindra saw the skeptical look that Folken gave her.  "It'll be worth the ride, I promise."

            Spurring their mounts to a gentle gallop, the couple started off once more.

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            Folken sat leaning back on the fallen tree trunk and absorbed the view that spread out before him.  He could hardly believe that the beautiful vista around him was only a couple of hours ride away from the soaring metal and glass buildings of the city.  Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scents of the forest around him.  _It's almost like being home – in Fanelia.  Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned around._

            Jindra smiled down at him.  "If you could only see the look on your face . . . so, did I deliver on my promise?"

            Reaching for her hand, Folken pulled her down to sit next to him.  "I'd certainly say so."  Putting his arms around her, he hugged her close.  "It's wonderful – I never would have guessed that there could be such a place this close to the city."  He looked down at Jindra, "You've been here before, I take it?"

            Snuggling closer into his embrace, she answered.  "Not for a long time.  My father used to have a hunting lodge down near the foot of the mountain.  When Coren and I were younger, our family would come and stay here for a few weeks during the warmer months.  It's like a whole different world compared to the city."  Jindra shifted and looked up at him, "I had a feeling you'd like it."

            "I do, it's beautiful."  Folken put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up towards him.  "Thank you for bringing me here."  He bent his head and lightly brushed her lips with a kiss.  Jindra lowered her head and let it rest on Folken's chest as he held her in the circle of his arms.  The two sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.  After a few minutes, Folken closed his eyes and let his mind drift.  Unbidden, he started to remember the dream again. 

            He had only been about thirteen or fourteen years old; and was hiding out from the old sword master, when he had come upon his father's groom and one of the laundry maids behind the stables.  He remembered feeling excited and embarrassed as he hid and watched the couple as they kissed and touched each other.  His skin felt oddly flushed and his breathing became more rapid as the pair rolled and moved in the straw, and as the maid cried out and clutched at the man astride her.  Then suddenly the image blurred,  and Folken found that the faces of the trysting pair had changed.  Their bodies locked in the most intimate of embraces; he and Jindra had become the couple crying out their pleasure under the warm afternoon sky.

            Folken had found himself jolted awake in his bed; his skin flushed, his heart racing and his breath coming in ragged gasps.  The dream had come more than once, and each time he would cry out Jindra's name as he clutched at the bed pillow and felt his body shudder from the force of his emotions.

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            Jindra glanced up at the sky as she started to pack up the remnants of their lunch.  "It looks like it's getting cloudier . . . and the wind seems to have picked up a bit."

            Folken handed her some empty plates.  "Could be a storm . . . do you want to start back?"

            "Probably – spring storms usually come up fast.  I hate to go back though, it's still so early."  Closing the lid on the wicker hamper, she cinched up the leather buckles.

            "We wouldn't want to get caught up in a storm though."  Folken took the basket from her and went to strap it onto her horse.

            "No, there's not much in the way of shelter between here and the city – just a few small farms."  Shaking out the blanket they had been sitting on, she started to roll it up.  "I was hoping we could spend the whole day together.  You've been so busy . . . we just haven't had been able to see each other that much."

            Folken took the rolled blanket from her and strapped it behind his saddle.  Turning, he found Jindra surveying the clearing for any last items.  Coming up behind her, he slipped his arms around her waist.  "I love any time that I get to spend with you."  Jindra leaned back against him and he bent his head to nuzzle at her neck.

            Giggling, she tried to twist out of his embrace.  "Stop that – don't!"

            Laughing, Folken released her.  "What's wrong?"

            "You're tickling me."

            Giving Jindra a sly smile, he stepped towards her.  "Oh really . . . ticklish, huh?  Now that's certainly interesting."

            Jindra put her hands up to stop him.  "No you don't . . . Folken!"  She shrieked as he caught her in his arms and kissed her.  Moving his head down, he lightly blew on her neck and kissed it.  He felt her shiver in his arms.  "What – no more giggling?  I thought you were ticklish?"

            Jindra could feel his breath on her throat has he spoke.  "I am . . . but it's not . . ." Her voice sounded hoarse, "It's not the same now."  

            Looking up at her face, Folken could see the confusion in her eyes.  _She feels it – like I do.  Gods, I want her so much . . ._

            Cupping Jindra's face in his hands, he bent his head to kiss her.  As their lips met, Jindra forced his mouth open as she sought out his tongue with her own.  Clutching her tightly, Folken could feel the heat slowly rising between them as their eager tongues dueled with one another.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_SEVENTEEN_

            The wind whipped at their cloaks and thunder rumbled as Folken and Jindra slowly made their way down the overgrown mountain path.  The sun had disappeared some time ago behind the thickening dark gray clouds.  Suddenly, Jindra's horse reared up as a bright crack of lightning lit up the sky.  Holding on and gripping her legs around the animal, she tried to calm it.  When it finally settled down, she reached out and pulled at Folken's sleeve.  "I think we need to find some kind of shelter; I have a feeling this is going to be one hell of a storm when it finally breaks."

            The young man nodded his head, "But where?"  The words were barely out of his mouth before the clouds opened up and the rain started to fall in pounding sheets.

            "I know a place . . . follow me."  Pulling her horse around, Jindra started back up the path.

            "Where are you going?"  Folken shouted at her.  "We just came that way – there's nothing."

            "The lodge," she saw his puzzled look; "the hunting lodge that I told you about."  _At least I hope it's still there.  Folken nodded his head and followed her lead._

            The rain was coming down so heavily that it made the ground a sea of treacherous mud; and the couple soon found themselves on foot, leading their horses.  The two were soaked through and mud-spattered.  Great cracks of lightning lit up the sky and with the loss of the sun, the air had turned cold.  Jindra's hands felt like ice and she tried desperately to keep her teeth from chattering.

            "Are you sure you know where you're going?"  Folken yelled at her, trying to be heard over the storm.

            "Y-Y-Yes, I'm sure – it shouldn't be much farther."  Urging her horse along, Jindra picked up her pace and Folken found himself hurrying to catch up with her.  Suddenly Jindra slipped in the mud and found herself sprawled on the ground.

            Folken drop his reins and hurried to her, "Jin!"  He knelt down at her side, his eyes wide with fear and concern.  "Are you alright?"

            "Yes . . . I just lost my footing."  Jindra reached for his offered hands and he helped her up.  "Damn stupid rain!"  The tone in her voice was harsh.  Grabbing her horse's reins, she trudged forward once more.  Folken just shook his head and followed. 

            They were both startled when a flash of lightning illuminated the silhouette of a building several yards away in front of them.  "Jin – look . . . there.  Is that it?"  Folken pointed. 

            "Yes!  I knew we were close."

            The two quickened their pace and reached the front yard of the building quickly.  Jindra pulled at Folken's sleeve to get his attention.  "There used to be a lean-to around the back – we can put the horses there."

            Folken nodded his head and looked up at the small dark building.  "It doesn't look like anyone is here.  How are we going to get in?"

            Jindra gave him a smile, "Break in of course."  Seeing the look on his face, she continued.  "What did you expect, Folken?  We don't have any choice – we can't stay out here."

            His expression grim, Folken reached for the reins of her horse.  "I'll take care of the horses while you see if there's a way in."

            Jindra shook her head, "No, I'll  . . ."

            "Just do as I ask, Jindra."  He snapped at her as he grabbed the reins from her hand.  Without another word, he led the horses around the side of the building.

            Jindra slowly walked up the front steps and onto the front porch of the lodge.  Testing the door, she found that it was locked.  _No surprise there.  Looking at the front windows, she saw that they were shuttered from the inside.  __The door it is, I guess.  The knife blade looked black as she pulled it from her boot.  Crouching down on her heels, Jindra set to work on the door lock as her hands shook from the cold._

            After several long frustrating minutes, she was rewarded when the lock finally yielded.  With a quick turn of the handle, she had the door open and stepped into the shadowed building.  Reaching under her sodden cloak, she reached into her black leather satchel in search of the box of matches that she knew was in there somewhere.  She was surprised to find that the inside of the satchel was relatively dry.  Fishing around, her hand finally found the small box and she quickly pulled one out and lit it.

            After a quick search of the front room, she found some candles and a few small oil lanterns that were still full.  With shaking hands, she lit the lanterns and surveyed the inside of the building.  _It's different then I remember; she thought.  As she looked around, she tried to stop shivering.  __I hope there's some dry wood – please let there be some dry wood.  Hearing noises behind her, she quickly turned to find Folken lumbering under the weight of two soaked saddles and blankets._

            "Folken!  Here, give me one of those."  She took one of the saddles from him and set it down near the cold fireplace.  Hurrying back behind him, she shut the front door.

            "G-G-Gods, I'm freezing."  Folken's voice shook as he spoke.  "Is there any firewood?"

            Jindra quickly looked in the box next to the hearth.  "Yes – and I have some matches too."  She held the small wooden box out to him.  Folken took the box from her and knelt down in front of the fireplace.

            While Folken busied himself with getting a fire started, Jindra removed her dripping cloak and looked around the lodge a little more.  The building consisted of one large open room with a ceiling that reached all the way up to the second floor, which held a bedroom loft.  _I wonder . . . Going up the small set of steps, she went up to the loft. _

            _It looks so different . . . the furniture is all different.  Opening up the large wooden wardrobe next to the bed, she found a store of linens and blankets.  __Yes!  Grabbing several of the blankets, she took them downstairs._

            Folken had a small fire going and was slowly feeding the growing blaze.  He looked up as she came to his side, "There you are.  Where did you go?  One minute you here and then you disappeared."

            Jindra pointed up, "I found some blankets."  Smiling, she handed him two.  She then wrapped one of the remaining ones about herself; "I'm so cold . . . I don't think I'll ever feel warm again."

            "Once the fire gets going, it should warm this place up in no time."  Folken wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.  Sitting back on his heels, he said no more as he watched the flickering flames.  Jindra regarded him for a few minutes and shook her head_.  What's gotten into him?_

            Seeing the saddles, blankets and other gear on the floor, she bent down and pulled out the saddle blankets.  Arranging them near the fireplace to dry, she took up the picnic basket and one of the lanterns.  Giving Folken one last glance, she went into the small kitchen area.

            The wicker hamper was soaked and what was left inside it looked decidedly unappetizing.  With a sigh, Jindra closed the lid and explored the pantry.  Opening the cupboard, she was not surprised to find that it was just about empty.  There was a tin of what appeared to be tea leaves and a couple of unlabeled canisters.  _Great – well at least we can have something hot to drink.  Investigating further, she managed to find a rather dented kettle and a couple of equally battered pewter mugs.  __Now all I need is some water.  Taking the kettle, she went to the front door and set it out on the front step.  The rain had not slackened and the kettle was full in no time at all._

            Folken looked up as she shut the door, "What . . .?"

            "Just getting some water – I found some tea in the cupboard."  Reaching over for a pair of tongs, she pulled the pot hook in the fireplace over and put the kettle on it.  After pushing the kettle over the flames, she went back into the kitchen.  Folken rose and followed her.

            Opening the tin of leaves, she gave the contents a dubious look.  Searching through the drawers, she found a couple of spoons and a tea strainer.  _Must be my lucky day . . . Taking the items, she went back out to the front room while Folken followed with the mugs._

            Checking the kettle, Jindra removed it from the fireplace and set it on table.  Folken watched her measure out the tea leaves and pour them in the pot.  Sitting down on the small sofa, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders while she waited for the tea to steep.  Folken sat down in a chair across from her.  After a few minutes, Jindra checked the kettle and poured out two mugs.

            Taking a sip, she made a face.  "It definitely needs some milk."  She sat back and closed her eyes, her hands wrapped around the pewter mug as if she could leech the warmth from it somehow.  _Gods, I'm so cold . . . She tried, without success, to keep her teeth from chattering._

            Folken sat quietly and sipped at his mug.  Watching Jindra, he saw that she was shaking.  Putting his cup down on the table, he rose and went to her.  "Jin – are you alright?"  He put his hand on her arm through the blanket.

            "F-F-Folken . . . I'm so c-cold . . . I-I- c-c-can't s-stop shaking . . ."

            Folken took the mug from her shaking hands.  Pulling the blanket from his shoulders, he wrapped it around her.  "It'll warm up – I'll get some more blankets."

            "N-N-No . . . c-could you j-just h-h-hold m-me . . . p-p-please?"

            Folken grabbed one of the discarded blankets and sat down next to her.  He wrapped it around the two of them as he cradled Jindra in his arms.  Holding her close, he kissed the top of her head, "Better?  Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

            Jindra snuggled closer into his embrace, her head resting against his chest.  "I love you . . .  Folken kissed her hair again.

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            Jindra awoke and found herself wrapped in Folken's arms.  Her throat was dry and she felt hot, her skin flushed.  _No wonder . . . I'm being smothered.  Shifting a little, she tried to claw her way out of the cocoon of blankets that she found herself wrapped in.  Folken opened his eyes as he felt her movement, "Jin . . . is anything wrong?"_

            "I didn't mean to wake you . . . I just had to get out of all these blankets."  As she spoke she felt the warmth of the fireplace, "It did get quite toasty in here."  Jindra rose from his embrace.

            Folken yawned and ruffled his hand through his hair.  "I don't remember falling asleep.  I wonder how late it is."  Rising from the sofa, he went to the front door.  Opening it, he looked out into the darkness.  The rain was still coming down in waves and he could hear thunder in the distance.  Sighing, he closed the door and went back to the sofa.  Jindra had retrieved her now-cold tea and he grimaced as he watched her gulp it down.

            "So, what's it like outside?"  She sat down next to him and pulled off her mud-encrusted boots.

            "Like it was when we got here.  I think we're going to be stuck here for a while – tonight at least."

            Jindra pulled one of the blankets across her lap and covered her feet.  "Just great . . . my mother will be in quite a state when I show up tomorrow."

            "I'd take your mother over what will be waiting for me when I get back to the tower.  I managed to cover myself for today, but I don't think my little ruse will make it through until tomorrow."

            Jindra put her hand on his arm, "I didn't even think about that – I don't want you to get into trouble, Folken."  He covered her hand with his own, "Don't worry, I can handle it.  Being Dornkirk's protégée does lend me some protection – I'll be alright."

            Jindra leaned her head on Folken's shoulder.  "Why does everything have to be so complicated?  Why can't we just be together without having to worry about everyone else?"

            Putting his arm around her, Folken held her close.  "Worthwhile things are never easy, Jin.  That's why our love is so strong."

            Raising her head, Jindra looked at him.  "Folken . . . do you ever . . . do you ever think about the future -- about us?"

            He gave her a small smile, "All the time.  While you were gone to Palas, that's all I thought about.  I couldn't stand the fact that you had gone away without me . . . I never want to feel that way again."

            Taking his arm from her shoulders, Folken took both of Jindra's hands in his.  Slowly he raised her right hand to his lips; but before kissing it as she expected, he turned her hand over and lightly brushed his lips against the back of her wrist.  Watching the reaction on her face, Folken then repeated his actions on her left wrist.

            Jindra closed her eyes and a small cry escaped from her throat.  Encouraged by her reaction, Folken once again repeated the kisses on her wrists.  Still holding her hands, he then bent his head and kissed her lips.  Jindra's breathing quickened and she felt her pulse start to race as he brushed his lips against her wrists yet again.

            As Folken returned to kiss her lips, she pulled her hands from his grasp and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him closer.  Jindra parted her lips and welcomed him into her mouth.  She found herself running her hands through his tangled hair and down his back as she sought to draw him even closer to her.  Folken followed her lead and let his hands roam over her shoulders and back.  Releasing her mouth, he then let his lips travel over her face and down her throat as he left a moist trail of kisses on her flushed skin.  Jindra let out a gasp and clutched at him even more tightly.

            "Jin . . . gods, how I love you . . . I want to love you . . ." Folken whispered the words as he buried his face in her neck.  Jindra could feel him trembling as they held each other.  Suddenly, he pulled away from her.  "I can't . . . I can't!"

            "Folken, what is it?"  Jindra reached out her hand, "Please, tell me what's wrong."  He flinched as she touched his arm.

            Folken turned his back to her and she could see him take several deep breaths and clench his fists at his side.  His voice was hoarse with emotion, "I-I want you s-so much . . . b-but I can't do this, Jin.  If I don't stop now, I-I won't be able to."

            Jindra could see his shoulders shake as he spoke and she felt tears spark in her eyes_.  I want him as much as he wants me . . . I don't want him to stop – I want him to – to make me feel this way . . . She reached up her hand and brushed the wetness from her eyes.__  I want him to know how much I love him._

            Folken felt Jindra get up from the sofa and heard the rustle of movement behind him.  _She's going to leave me . . . because I couldn't control myself . . . He jumped when she touched his back._

            "F-Folken . . . I-I . . . I don't want you to stop."  Her voice was soft, "Please . . ."

            Turning, Folken's eyes widened as he looked at Jindra.  She had removed her overdress and was clad only in her trousers and a pale sleeveless shift.  "Jin . . . what . . .?"  He watched the flush that spread across her skin and he saw that she was trembling.

            Kneeling down in front of him, Jindra took hold of his hands.  "P-Please . . . I-I want – I want you to l-love me, Folken . . . I want you to . . . please . . ."

            Folken looked down at her in wonder.  Her hair was tangled and she had dried mud on her cheek; but at that moment, none of it mattered.  All that he could see was the love and trust in Jindra's eyes as she looked up at him.  _Gods, how I want her . . . All that he had dreamed about, the very thing that haunted him in his bed at night, was being offered; and still he hesitated.  Pulling his hands from her grasp, he cupped her face.  "Jin . . ."_

            Jindra covered his hands with her own, "Please . . . don't turn me away.  I think I'd die if you refused me right now.  Please . . . I-I want you . . . I want to be with you.  I love you Folken."  Her voice pleaded with him.

            Folken looked into her eyes for a few moments as of searching for something.  He then reached down and pulled her to her feet as he rose from the sofa.  Taking up one of the fallen blankets, he wrapped it around her shoulders.

            Jindra looked crestfallen and she started to speak, "No . . . please, don't . . ." Before she could finish however, Folken placed his finger across her lips.  "Shhhhhh."  Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her once again.

            Picking up the lantern from the table, he took her hand and led her up the steps to the loft.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

_EIGHTEEN_

            Standing next to the bed, the young couple kissed.  Folken stood back a little and ran the tips of his trembling hand down the side of Jindra's face.  Jindra reached up and repeated the gesture on his cheek; and Folken closed his eyes at her touch.  Turning his face into her palm, he kissed it.  Folken caught and held her hand as he bent his head and once again kissed her lips.  Jindra pulled her hand from his grasp and wound her arms around his neck.  As the kiss deepened, her trembling hands worked at pulling Folken's coat from him.  Running her hands over his chest and back, she heard him let out a low moan.

            Pulling away, she gently pushed him back to sit on the edge of the bed.  Quietly, she pulled of his boots and helped him to remove his trousers.  Clad in only his shirt and underclothes, Folken then returned the attention and slowly pulled off Jindra's trousers as his hands caressed her back and smoothed down to mold themselves around her hips.  She was left wearing only the thin shift that reached to her mid thigh.  Standing again, the couple wrapped their arms around one another as their mouths sought each other out once more.

            Kissing deeply, the young lovers trailed hands and fingertips over one another's bodies – thrilling at the sensations that were slowly being awakened with each touch.  Releasing Jindra's mouth, Folken trailed kisses over her face and jaw and then down her neck.  Leaving a moist trail across her throat, he took her left earlobe in his mouth and gently suckled and nibbled at it.  Jindra tried to stifle the surprised moan that escaped from her lips as she pressed herself closer into his arms.  Letting go of her ear, Folken kissed his way back to Jindra's liips.  He lightly ran his hands over her back and bare arms as he once more plunged his tongue into her waiting and eager mouth.  Jindra shivered at the cool smoothness of his metallic hand as it brushed across her skin.

            Following Folken's lead, Jindra let her lips draw a trail of kisses down his throat.  Running her hands over his chest and back, she then reached for the buttons on his shirt.  As her fingers slowly undid the third button, Folken stopped her.  "Jin . . . please -- don't."  She could hear the frightened tone in his voice and she looked up at him.  "Why – what's wrong?  I thought you wanted to . . ."

            "I . . . I . . ." Folken shook his head.  _How can I tell her?  How can I let her see what a freak I truly am?_

            "What is it?"  Jindra cupped the side of his face with her hand.  _What doesn't he want me to see?  Is it his arm . . . scars?  She had felt something through his shirt as she had touched his chest and back.  __That must be what I felt . . . scars from his accident.  "Folken, it's alright – I've seen your arm . . ." She reached for the buttons on his shirt and once again, he stayed her hands._

            "It's – it's not my arm . . . not entirely."  He looked down, "I-I-I don't want you to see me – I don't want you to be afraid of me."  Jindra could hear the pain in his voice and it made her heart ache.

            Resting her forehead on his chest, she kissed him through his shirt.  "I love you Folken . . . I could never be afraid of you."  Raising her head, she looked into his eyes.  "Trust me."  Without waiting for his response, Jindra's fingers returned to their task.  As she released the last button, she gently parted the cloth across his chest and pushed it from his shoulders and down his arms.  Folken heard her sharp intake of breath as she stepped back a little and looked at his bare torso.  _Oh my love, what did those monsters do to you?_

            The metal arm went all the way to his shoulder, a strange mockery of human flesh that flashed in the lantern light.  But what Jindra had thought might be scars, were actually bands of metal that stretched across Folken's chest and down his right side to help anchor the heavy metallic arm to his body.  _How much pain he must have been in – then to wake up like that . . . damn them, damn them all to the nine hells!  Jindra blinked back the tears that she felt forming in her eyes._

            Folken watched the mix of emotions that played across her face:  sadness, pity and surprisingly, anger.  _I never should have done this . . . who would want me?  Who would want to love a hideous creature like me?_

            He was about to turn away when Jindra reached out her hand and hesitantly touched the largest of the metal bands across his chest.  Looking up to judge his reaction, she let her hand move down to his side and she touched the smooth metal there.  Slowly, almost sensually, she let her hand trail across his skin back up to his chest and then she leaned forward and kissed the cool metal.  Folken's eyes widened at she continued kissing his chest and gently ran her hands over his arms and back, where her fingertips trailed over similar bands.  Folken almost jumped when she planted a light kiss on his left nipple.  The sensation sent a ripple of heat into his stomach and he moaned aloud.  Pulling Jindra closer, he lifted her face up and once again plundered her mouth.

            Upon releasing her battered tongue, Folken again kissed his way down Jindra's jaw and throat.  As he nuzzled at her neck, he pushed the straps of her shift down off her shoulders and then kissed and gently nipped at one shoulder and then the other.  Jindra shuddered in Folken's arms as she murmured is name.  Her skin felt like it was on fire and she could feel a moist heat building within.

            Pulling away from her slightly, Folken took her shift in his hands, pulled it up over her head and let it drop to the floor.  Then taking her in his arms once again, he kissed her and gently drew her down onto the bed.

            With gentle hands and lips, Folken and Jindra explored one another and slowly found their own path to pleasure.  At first their touches and caresses were tentative and unsure, but slowly the two lovers became more comfortable with one another and found themselves lost in sensations they had only previously dreamed of.  Jindra felt every kiss and touch as if it were a hot brand on her skin and her whole body felt like one giant spring that was waiting to pop.  She longed for something to release her from the sweet torment that pooled in her stomach.  Folken groaned aloud with every kiss and caress.  His breath came in ragged gasps and his skin shone with perspiration.  His body felt so inflamed that it almost bordered on pain.

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            Poised above her, Folken paused and looked down at Jindra.  The lantern gave her normally pale skin a golden glow and her eyes were bright as she gazed back at him.  "I-I'm afraid," his voice was a whisper.

            With a trembling hand, Jindra reached up and touched his face; "Me too."  Her hand slowly trailed down until it rested on his chest, right over his heart.  "I love you Folken . . . with every breath that I take."  With a barely audible cry, Folken sank down into her welcoming embrace.

            Jindra bunched up the bed coverings in her fist and squeezed her eyes shut as she felt Folken's weight on her chest.  For all that she insisted that she was a woman grown, she had never experienced more than a few kisses with a man before she had met Folken.  When she had reached her thirteenth birthday, her mother had taken her aside and explained some of the more intimate details of love to her.  She knew that there would be pain, but she also knew that with the right man it could lead to pleasures beyond her wildest dreams.  As she felt the last barrier within her yield, she wrapped her arms around Folken and clung to him.  Tears sparked in her eyes and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.  

            Folken felt Jindra's fingers as they dug into the skin of his back and he saw the tears that beaded on her eyelashes.  He gently brushed his lips over her eyes and softly kissed her mouth.  Moving his lips down her jaw, Folken whispered in her ear.  "You hold my heart and touch my soul.  I love you Jindra Roh . . . I will love no other."

            Returning to Jindra's lips once more, Folken found her mouth opening to him.  As their tongues met and entwined, the two lovers soon found their own rhythm and soared on the pleasurable sensations that assailed their bodies and senses.

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            Folken stood on the brink of release.  His breathing was labored and he felt as if his very blood were on fire.  Suddenly Jindra cried out and clawed at his skin as she arched her back.  Bucking beneath him, small cries escaped from her throat as she clung to him.  She was almost delirious with the pleasure that had overcome her body.

            Spurred on by his partner's rapture, Folken felt himself start to lose control and he cried out Jindra's name as he finally tipped over the edge and shuddered out his passion while black spots danced before his eyes.  He was so lost in his own ecstasy that he never even felt the two white wings as they unfurled from his back.  With one last groan, Folken buried his face in the crook of Jindra's neck and gulped for air.

            Her eyes closed, Jindra clung to Folken as he finally let go.  Small cries sounded in her throat as she rode the pleasurable waves of his release with him.  She could feel the warm heaviness of Folken's body as it settled over her; and with a contented sigh, she released her grip on him until it was nothing more than a light touch.  She could hear him as he murmured inaudible words against her throat.

            As she reveled in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Jindra felt something brush lightly against her cheek – tickling it.  Opening her eyes, she was startled when a white feather floated down and brushed her nose before landing next to her.  Turning her head a little, she could see yet another feather lying on the pillow next to her head.  _What the . . .?  Turning back, her eyes widened and she stared in horrified fascination at the trailing white wings that sprouted from her lover's back._


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_ NINETEEN_

            Folken felt Jindra stiffen under him and lifting his head a little, he spoke her name.  When she didn't answer, he pushed himself up so that he could see her face.  Her eyes were wide and rimmed with fear.

            "Jin – what is it?"  She didn't seem to hear him.  "Jindra . . .?"  He saw that she was looking past him, over his shoulder.  Feeling suddenly afraid, Folken pushed himself off the bed and quickly spun around towards the stairs; but as he did so, he felt a familiar weight across his back and shoulders.

            _NO!  Gods, no – not now – please not now!  With a curse, he turned back towards Jindra to find that she had scrambled across the bed away from him; and she was looking at him as if he were a stranger.  Silently cursing himself again, he quickly drew his wings back in._

            As Jindra watched Folken, she started to shake as hysteria began to build within her.  _It can't be . . . it's a nightmare . . . gods, please let me wake up – please don't let it be true . . ._

            "Jin . . . please . . . don't look at me like that.  Jindra . . .?"  Folken moved towards her until he was next to where she sat curled up on the bed.  Bending down, he reached out and took her by the shoulders, "Jin . . . please -- say something."

            She tried to speak, but her throat had gone dry and she pulled away from him.  Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to stop shaking.  Folken felt her rejection like a physical blow.  He quietly sat down on the bed near her and held his head in his hands.  Breathing deeply, he tried to fight back the tears that welled in his wine-dark eyes.  _Why now?  Gods, why now?  Stupid, stupid, stupid!  She hates me!_

            Jindra's voice was a whisper as it broke through his thoughts.  "W-What . . . what are y-y-you?"

            Folken felt a pain in his chest as he heard the fear in her voice.  "A man . . . the same man I was a few minutes ago when I held you in my arms."  He whispered in response without lifting his head.  Jindra could see his shoulders shake and she knew that he was crying.  She wanted to reach out to him, to soothe his pain away, but something held her back.

            "Did . . . did they do that to you?"  Folken knew how she meant by "they" – the sorcerers.

            "N-N-No," his voice shook.  "I-I was . . . I was born this way."  He looked up at her as he finished speaking.  Jindra's eyes were wide as she looked at him.  "Born . . .?  But . . . but I – I don't understand.  How can a person be born with – with wings?"

            Folken took several deep breaths and gave her a measured look before he answered.  "My mother – my mother is Draconian.  I inherited my wings from her."  He could see from the look on her face that she didn't believe him.

            "That's . . . that's impossible.  The Draconians are a myth – everyone knows that.  Besides even if they had been real, they all supposedly died out a thousand years ago."  Jindra could see the hurt in his eyes as she finished speaking.

            His voice was a low whisper, "Not all of them . . . my mother is one of the few still left."

            Jindra looked down at the forgotten white feathers that lay on the bed.  She heard Bethanne's voice in her head, _"I remember Yellan saying that she wasn't Fanelian.  The king raised quite a stir when he married her."  Looking up, she met Folken's gaze.  Feeling his eyes on her, she suddenly felt self-conscious.  Blushing, she grabbed at the bedclothes and pulled the coverlet over herself._

            A feather drifted down to land on the bed between them.  Folken looked at it sadly, "I-I wanted to tell you . . . I was going to tell you . . ."

            Jindra's voice was hard as she cut him off, "When Folken?  When were you going to tell me?  Was it going to be when you told me that you're the crown prince of Fanelia?"

            His head snapped up, "Who told you that?"

            "Not you, obviously;" she shot back harshly.  "Coren told me, although I didn't believe him . . . until now.  It's true, isn't it?"  Folken didn't reply, but the look he gave her said it all.  Jindra squeezed her eyes shut and when she reopened them, he could see them glistening with unshed tears.  "How can you look me in the face and tell me that you love me, but – but you can't trust me enough to tell me the truth about yourself?  You can't love someone without trusting them, Folken."  Her voice broke as she finished.

            She looked down at her lap and pressed her fingers to her eyes as if she were weary.  After a few moments, she dropped her hands but did not look up at him.  "Y-You and I have just shared the most intimate thing that a man and woman can experience together . . . and I can't believe that even after that, you can't trust me."  She looked up at him, "How do you think that makes me feel?  I wanted to make love with you Folken – I wanted it more than anything . . . but now – now it just feels so cheap, so dirty."  Jindra let out a sob and buried her face in her arms as she brought her knees up towards her chest.

            Folken started to reach out his hand towards her, but stopped before touching her arm.  Dropping his hand, he picked up the feather that had fallen between them.  _Why does everything in my life have to go wrong?  I should have known that this was too beautiful – too perfect . . . why can't I ever be happy?  Crushing the feather in his hand, he threw it to the floor.  __Why did the gods curse me so?  Looking at Jindra's bent head he could feel his heart breaking.  __It's only what I deserve . . . I never should have done this – I never should have let myself fall in love with her._

            He knew that he should say something, but he wasn't sure what.  He could feel the tears as they rolled down his face and he resisted the urge to brush them away.  His voice was soft when he finally spoke, "Jin . . . please . . . I . . ." He stopped and took a deep breath to steady himself.

            "Tonight was . . . tonight was beautiful.  Tonight you showed me just what love is – what it really feels like to love someone . . . and I do love you, Jin – I love you so much that I can't even begin to put into words just how much."  He swallowed and continued, "It's not . . . it's not because I don't trust you, it's just that . . . so much as gone wrong in my life – it's hard for me to open up to people, to trust them.  In the tower, I always have to be on my guard; but with you . . . with you I could just be myself.  You never pushed me -- you just accepted me as I was . . . I was always so afraid that you would reject me if you saw what I was – if you knew the truth of who I was.  As much as I love you, I'm still afraid that you'll leave me."

            Jindra lifted her head from her arms, but did not look at him.  "I never pressed you about your past because I didn't want to push you away.  I could see how much you were hurting, but I always trusted that you would tell me when you were ready.  I trusted you because I loved you, Folken.  But I let my feelings blind me to so much; I let them blind me to all the secrets that you've kept from me.  Everything that I know about you isn't because you told it to me – I've learned it from other people."  She brushed at her eyes with her fingers.  "You're like a stranger to me . . . I don't think that I've ever really known you."

            Jindra sobbed, "I can't believe that I gave myself to a man that I don't even know – I feel like a whore!" 

            Folken reached out his hand to her, "Jin – don't . . . please don't say that.  You know that I love you – you can feel it in your heart.  I meant everything that I said to you tonight . . ."

            She flinched and pulled away before he could touch her.  "Don't!  Don't touch me!  I don't want you to touch me – I don't want you to talk to me . . . I don't want to look at you – just leave me alone!  Please . . . just leave me alone!"

            Folken felt as if she had just slapped him across the face.  "Jin don't . . . gods, don't push me away.  I love you, please don't do this.  We can work it out . . ."

            Clasping her knees once again, Jindra rested her forehead on her arms.  Her voice was hoarse and pleading, "Folken . . . I'm begging you – please, please leave me alone."

            As his tears rolled even faster down his face, Folken sat on the bed and looked at Jindra as she gently rocked back and forth.  After a minute or so, he rose from the bed.  "I swore to your mother that I would never let anyone hurt you, Jindra.  Little did I know that it would be me that you would have to worry about."

            Turning away, he walked to the stairs; stopping briefly to gather up his clothing from the floor.  With a last sad look at the woman he loved, Folken started down the stairs.

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            The lodge was quiet.  The storm seemed to have lessened until the rain was nothing more than a steady, gentle patter.  Jindra was lulled by the soft familiar sound as she hugged her knees to her chest.  She wasn't sure how long she had been like that, but her tears still continued to fall.  _I can't believe this – it's like the worst nightmare I ever had.  Why?  Why did I throw myself at him?  Why did I beg him like some shameless tart in the street?  How could I do something so stupid?  She sniffed.  __Because I love him . . . even now, I still love him . . . I still love him so much._

            Jindra sighed and tried to stop crying.  After a while, her tears dried and she stretched out her legs on the bed.  Pulling the bed cover with her, she stood and walked towards the stairs.

            Looking down, she saw Folken seated in one of the chairs facing the fireplace.  He had put out the lanterns and sat in the near darkness, the firelight casting shadows across the profile of his face.  He was wearing his trousers and his shirt, which was unbuttoned.  His legs were stretched out before him and his hands rested on the arms of the chair.  The firelight glinted on his metal hand and she could see the glow from the bands across his chest.  He sat so still that he looked like a statue.  _What have I done to him?  How he must hate me._

            Turning back to the room, Jindra saw her shift and trousers lying on the floor.  Bending down, she picked them up and pulled the shift over her head.  She looked at the still-damp, mud-spattered trousers in disgust and threw them on the back of the small wooden chair next to the bed.  She felt chilled and wished that she had her overdress, but it was downstairs and she was reluctant to go down and get it.  She didn't want to have face Folken, not yet.

            Looking around for the blanket that she had brought up stairs, she saw Folken's coat and boots on the floor.  Picking up his coat, she hugged it to her chest, as the tears welled up in her eyes once more.  She could see Folken as he had looked earlier standing next to the bed, ready to protect her with his fists clenched and his wings outstretched.  He had looked so dangerous and so beautiful at the same time.  _Like a god would look . . .  What have I done?  Pressing her face into the fabric of his coat, she tried to inhale his scent:  the clean, woodsy smell of his shaving soap; but all she could smell was damp wool and horses.  Without thinking about it, she slipped the coat on and put his boots next to the wood chair._

            With a frustrated sigh, she started straightening up the bed linens – trying to keep her mind occupied so she wouldn't be able to think about what had happened.  She had just finished smoothing out the coverlet when she heard a noise behind her.

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            Folken sat, staring into the fire.  His heart felt so cold that he couldn't even cry anymore.  _Why?  Why does everything in my life have to go wrong?  For the first time in so long, I find some happiness only to have it ripped away.  Looking at the flames, all he could see was Jindra's horrified face as she had looked at his wings.  __It's all my fault – I should have told her . . . no, I never should have allowed myself to fall in love with her.  He clenched his jaw; __I'm a sorcerer . . . no ties, no emotion . . . Small sounds broke the silence and Folken looked up towards the loft.  He could see the shadow of movement on the walls._

            He felt the blood rush to his face as he thought about the love that he and Jindra had shared in that loft only a short time ago; of how his very soul seemed to burn with the passion that he had experienced with her.  _Now I've thrown it all away – because I was afraid – afraid that she would reject me.  How do I know that she would have?  I never even gave her the chance._

            He could still feel the touch of her lips and hands on his body; and see the love and trust in her eyes as she had asked him to make love to her.  She had trusted him and he had taken her love and given nothing in return.  He had given her pleasure, yes; but it had been without trust, without honor.  _She's right . . . I made her a whore.  I took her and gave her nothing of myself in return.  Gods, what have I done?_

            Folken didn't feel the metal fingers of his right hand as they dug holes into the leather of the chair.  _I have to try and make it right somehow.  I need her – I can't let her go . . . I have to trust her.  I have to tell her the truth – all of it.  No more secrets . . ._

            Looking back up at the loft, Folken knew what he had to do.  Rising from the chair, he made his way to the stairs and slowly climbed up.


	20. Chapter Twenty

TWENTY

            Jindra spun around and found Folken watching her; and she blushed as she realized that she was still wearing his coat.  Looking down at the floor, she quickly swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.  Folken stepped towards her and took her by the shoulders.  She was startled and struggled to break free, but his grip was like iron.  Folken pushed her back until she was sitting on the edge of the bed and then he released her.

            "It may be too late, but – but I have something that I need to tell you.  All I ask is that you listen, and then . . . then I will accept whatever decision you make regarding your feelings for me."  Jindra's couldn't find her voice, so she merely nodded her head in response.

            Taking a deep break, Folken looked at her and then started.  "My name is Folken Lacour de Fanel.  I was born on the seventeenth day of the Purple month almost eighteen years ago.  My father and mother are Goau and Varie de Fanel, the king and queen of Fanelia.  I have one brother . . ." and he continued on.

            As he spoke, Folken started to pace about the small loft; and occasionally he would stop and turn away, so that Jindra couldn't see his face.  She guessed that it was because he did not want her to see the extent of his emotions as he poured out his life to her.

            Jindra sat in rapt silence as listened as he spoke.  She didn't speak or touch him, she just listened.  She felt tears spark in her eyes as Folken spoke of his father's illness and death; she left herself smile when he told her of his younger brother, Van; and she clutched her hands to her chest in fear when he told her of the dragon hunt.  Jindra's heart ached to reach out to him when he told her of how he thought he was going to die after the dragon took his arm, but she held herself back.  She felt the anger rage in her when he spoke of first waking up in the sorcerer's tower and the horror that he felt when he saw what they had done to him.

            Folken spoke for some time, and his voice was hoarse when he finally finished.  Drained, he sat down on the bed away from Jindra and rested his head on his arms.  Jindra looked at him sadly for a few moments before she rose and quietly went down the stairs.  Folken heard her walk away and he felt his heart sink.  _I knew it . . . why did I even try?  She hates me . . ._

            He could feel the despair washing over him when there was a sudden, light touch on his arm.  Looking up, he saw Jindra kneeling in front of him with one of the pewter mugs in her hands.  Folken saw that it was filled with water and he smiled his gratitude as she handed him the mug.  As he drained the contents, Jindra sat down next to him on the bed, but remained silent.

            Folken set the empty cup down on the floor and steeling himself, he turned towards Jindra.  She was looking at the far wall and seemed lost in thought.  Gently, he touched her arm and blinking, she came back to herself.  She looked at him silently, still considering all that he had told her.  It was Folken who broke the silence first.

            "Now you know everything.  I wanted to tell you all of this for so long . . . but there was something that held me back."  He swallowed and licked his lips, "You were right, I didn't trust you.  But it wasn't because I didn't love you, Jin.  I just . . . I just couldn't believe that you could love me.  I don't even like myself very much . . . how could someone possibly love me?"

            Jindra could hear the pain in his voice and see it in his eyes.  Reaching out, she took his metal hand in both of hers.  Looking down at the palm, she ran her thumbs over the cool metal.  "I love you Folken . . . I've loved you for so long – even before that night in my mother's garden when I told you how I felt.  But what you've told me tonight – what you've given me tonight . . . it makes me love you even more."  She looked up at him, "I knew you weren't like anyone else that I'd ever met . . . and I know it sounds stupid, but – but I always knew that there was someone special out there for me . . . a soul mate, if you will."  She raised his hand to her lips and kissed the palm.  "You are that man, Folken Lacour."

            Folken widened his eyes in surprise and he felt tears spark in his eyes.  Taking her hand from her grasp, he cupped her face and looked at her in wonder.  "I-I never dreamed that there could be someone like you, Jindra.  I never knew how to dream until I met you."  Leaving her face, he reached down and clasp her hands.  "I – I've been thinking about this for some time now and maybe – maybe now it's the right time."  He paused and took a breath, "I love you and I want to be with you, Jindra – for the rest of my life.  I want to make love with you at night and wake up every morning with you in my arms.  I want to share my heart and my life with you.  What I'm trying to say – what I'm trying to ask you is . . . will you – will you marry me, Jindra?"

            Jindra opened her mouth, but found she couldn't speak.  Swallowing hard, she finally whispered, "Yes – a hundred million times, yes!" and she threw her arms around him.  Folken kissed away the tears that welled from her eyes and then moved down to engulf her welcoming mouth.  As their tongues met and entwined, Jindra gently pushed Folken back down on the bed and the two soon gave themselves up to ecstasy again.

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            Much later, the young lovers lay in each other's arms enjoying the closeness of one another.  Jindra's head rested on Folken's chest as he cradled her in his arms.  Her arm was across his chest and her fingers absently played across the metal bands.  The rain had stopped and the wind was quiet.  Folken kissed the top of Jindra's head and she snuggled closer to him.  The fingers of his left hand traced circles on the warm skin of her back.  ""You're awfully quiet."

            "Just thinking, that's all"

            "About me I hope."  Jindra could hear the playful tone in his voice and moving her head, she looked up at him.  "You?  You're pretty confident all of a sudden."

            "Well, I'd like to think that my future wife is thinking about me."  He arched his brow at her as he spoke.

            Playing along with him, Jindra turned on her side towards him and propped herself up on her elbow.  "Well actually . . . I was wondering why I didn't get to see your wings again."  She watched the blush that crept over his face and gave him a smug smile.

            "Jindra!  That's – that's not funny . . . it's not like I meant for that happen."

            "Oh no . . ?"

            "I-I couldn't help it; I – I lost control."  His blush deepened, "Don't you dare laugh at me Jindra Roh!  I swear I'll withdraw my marriage proposal and leave you in this bed alone for the rest of the night.  You just don't joke about things like that."

            "Peace Folken, peace.  I'm sorry – I was only teasing."  Reaching up, she stroked the side of his face with her hand.  Her voice was soft as she looked at him.  "They're beautiful wings – really.  Seeing you there with them outstretched like that . . . you looked – you looked so . . . I don't know if this is the right word, but magnificent."  This time it was Jindra's turn to blush.

            Looking at him shyly, she asked "Do they hurt?"  Folken gave her a puzzled look.  "Your wings – do they hurt when you – when you . . . let them out?"

            He shook his head, "No, not really.  They did feel a little stiff, but that's just because I haven't unfurled them in a very long time.  They're not something that I usually show in public; in fact, there are only a handful of people in Zaibach who know that I have them."

            "Unfurled . . . that was the word I was looking for."  She looked at him for a moment, as if considering something.  "This is a stupid question, but I have to ask . . ." Folken nodded at her to continue.  "Can you . . . can you . . .?"

            "Fly?"  He finished for her.  Turning pink once again, Jindra nodded.

            "After a fashion -- although it's more like gliding on air currents than actually flying;" He watched her eyes widened as he spoke.  "There's a certain sense of freedom – an exhilaration that I've never felt from anything else.  When I was younger and feeling sad about something, I'd leave the city and go out into the hills where I could be alone and ride the currents.  But my mother didn't like it, she always cautioned Van and I about showing our wings where other people could see them.  Other than my family, that's probably the one thing that I miss most about home – being able to soar whenever I felt like it."

            Jindra saw the momentary flash of melancholy that passed over his face as he finished speaking; then just as quickly he gave her a playful smile and put his arm around her waist.  "See, I knew that you were thinking about me."

            Making a face at him, Jindra let her elbow slide down until her head was resting on the pillow.  "Seriously, I was thinking about us.  I've been thinking about what we're going to do."  Shifting a little onto his side, Folken faced her.  "What do you mean?"

            Jindra clasped his hand, "I know that we'll have to leave here . . ."

            He interrupted her before she could finish.  "Maybe not – I'm sure we can work something out."

            "Folken, from what you told me, I don't believe that they will just allow you to walk away from the tower.  I don't believe that the emperor will just let you go.  We'll have to leave."

            "I know . . . and I know it will be hard to leave your family – but I won't ask you to unless there is no other way."

            Jindra nodded slowly, "I know you wouldn't."  She was silent for a few moments, a thoughtful look on her face.  "We could go to Egzardia or maybe even Basram – my father always said that Basram was almost like being Zaibach . . . or Palas – I'm sure that Bethanne would help us."

            Folken leaned towards her and kissed her forehead, "We have time, Jindra.  We don't have to decide anything right now."

            Jindra reached over and stroked his cheek.  "I know . . . but it is important and I can't help thinking about it."  She looked thoughtful once again.  "What about Fanelia?  No one would ever think to look for us there."

            "No Jin, not Fanelia."  Folken's voice was cold and his eyes grew dark, "I can't ever go back home.  I don't care where we go, but it won't be there."

            Jindra put her hand on his chest, "I'm sorry Folken; I didn't mean to upset you -- I was just thinking out loud."  She brushed his lips with a soft kiss.  "I don't want to go there anyway – I don't think I could live among people that send children out to face things that would kill most grown men."

            "It's not like that," he gave her a hard look.  "It's the duty of the royal family, Jin.  The right of dragon slaying is to prove that you're worthy to be king . . . that you have the strength to lead."  Folken looked away from her, his voice soft and sad.  "But I failed . . . I wasn't strong enough – that's why I can't ever go back.  I just hope that Van will be the king that I could never be."

            Jindra cupped his chin and raised his eyes back up to hers.  "How can you say that?  How can you believe that you're a failure, Folken?  Why?  Because you didn't die like you were supposed to – because you survived?"  Her voice was firm as she looked into his dark eyes, "I won't allow you to say that, do you hear me?  You are not a failure Folken – don't ever think that."  She leaned forward and kissed him again, "You may not be the king of Fanelia, Folken de Fanel; but you are a king to me."  She gave him a shy smile, "You are the king of my heart."

            Folken pulled Jindra to his chest and captured her mouth once again as her hands reached up to tangle in his pale hair.

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            ". . . and the survival rate among the test subjects is excellent – much better than we predicted; almost ninety percent when compare to those that have undergone the fate alternation process."

            Dornkirk's voice echoed in the dark chamber, "Excellent . . . but what about the side effects?"

            "They're almost non-existent, your majesty.  None of the subjects have shown any signs of the madness that was prevalent among the fate alteration subjects.  The only lasting damage seems to be to their long-term memory – but the percentage is quite negligible.  As long as the subjects receive the formula on a regular basis, they are quite tractable and trainable."

            "Are you still administering it through injection?"

            "No my lord; after the initial injection series, all other doses are given through the food rations.  It has worked out quite well."

            "I must congratulate you, Foruma; you've done an outstanding job.  I would like you to continue – the initial group must be ready for the next phase, if I am not mistaken.  Since everything seems to be running smoothly, I would like to expand the program."  The other man nodded.  "Excellent – excellent . . . this project has exceeded my expectations.  I will expect your next report in three weeks.  You may leave me now."

            The man named Foruma bowed deeply, "As you wish, my emperor."  Straightening, he quickly left the chamber.

            Dornkirk turned his attention to one of the shadowed recesses in the wall, "Has he been found."

            A dark-cloaked figure stepped away from the wall and into the feeble light.  "No your majesty . . . it appears that he has left the tower walls," a man's voice replied.

            "With the girl, I presume?"

            The cloaked man could feel the emperor's anger and he willed himself not to tremble.  "I believe so, my lord.  They were seen leaving by the western gate – on horseback.  The groom from her father's stable said that he believed she had just gone riding for the afternoon.  He swore that she took nothing with her but a picnic basket, your majesty."

            The emperor considered the man's words.  "You had his rooms searched?"

            "Yes my lord.  It did not appear that anything was missing."

            "How did he leave the tower without being seen?"  Dornkirk's anger permeated the room.

            "I-I-I do not know."  The cloaked man hated himself for stuttering, but he knew that he could not keep anything from the emperor.

            Dornkirk's eyes bored into the man before him.  "You will know – or you will suffer for it."  His voice was even more hard and cold, "I want him found and brought back here – even if you have to drag him in chains to do it.  If you cannot handle the responsibility, then I will replace you with someone who can."

            The man fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to the stone floor of the chamber.  "I am your humble servant, my emperor."

            "I want an end to this.  Folken must take his place as my apprentice."  Dornkirk saw the man flinch at his words.  "I have allowed him too much freedom it seems; perhaps it is time to tether my young Draconian prince."

            The cloaked man raised his head, but remained kneeling.  "It will be as you command, my emperor.  I have already taken steps to ensure his loyalty to the tower.  May I have your leave to go?"

            The emperor's voice was hard, "Yes, go – get out of my sight until you have something worthwhile to report."

            The man rose, but hesitated.  "Your majesty . . . what about – what about the girl?"

            "What about her?  Kill her if you must – just get rid of her.  Now leave me!"

            Bowing, the man turned and quickly fled from the darkened chamber.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

TWENTY-ONE

            Folken Lacour lay in that half-world between sleep and consciousness.  He could feel the warmth of Jindra's body as she lay curled up beside him in the bed.  She was lying on her side with her back to him with his hand resting lightly on her hip.  _To spend every night for the rest of my life like this . . . Jindra shifted onto her back and Folken's hand slip with her to rest on her stomach; he opened his eyes and groaned.  __Not again!  Why can't she stay still?   Apparently his new fiancée was a very restless sleeper and Jindra was constantly moving and turning.  Every time that Folken found himself on the verge of falling asleep, she would move and jolt him awake.  __Oh well, guess I'll have to get used to it . . ._

            Folken found himself recalling his parent's bedchamber in the Fanelian palace.  He remembered climbing in bed with them during a particularly violent thunderstorm.  He wasn't sure how old he was at the time, but it had been before Van was born.  As great cracks of lightning lit up the night sky, he had run into their bedchamber and wriggled into their bed as they slept.  Clutching at his mother's arm, she had awakened and kissed his head; telling him not to be afraid.  As he fell asleep between them, he remembered how safe and loved he had felt.

            Looking at Jindra as she slept, Folken suddenly felt scared as he finally realized just where his hand rested and what the two of them had done that night.  Like Jindra, Folken had never experienced the more intimate, physical side of love until that night; but he had learned enough to know that children were conceived by making love.  _Children . . . our children – gods, I never really thought of that before.  Have we made a child of our own?  No, probably not . . . it's only our first night together._

            Closing his eyes once again, Folken started imagining what their children would like.  _I hope she . . . yes, I think I'd like to have a daughter first; Id want her to have Jin's hair and smile . . . my mother's gentle manner; and my brains, of course . . .  He finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of auburn-haired children who laughed and shrieked as they jumped up and down on his bed._

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            Small cracks of sunlight filtered through the shuttered windows in the loft.  Folken crouched next to the bed looking at Jindra as she slept.  She was sleeping on her stomach with the bedclothes pulled up tightly around her.  He didn't want to wake her, but the sun had been up for several hours already and he thought that it would best for them to get an early start back to the city.  Folken was sure that her parents were probably frantic by now and he still had to get back into the sorcerer's tower.  _Easier said then done, I'm afraid.  I'm sure they know I'm gone by now._

            With a sigh, he gently sat down next to Jindra and whispered her name.  He waited a few moments and then softly called her again.  He was rewarded when she shifted a bit, but she didn't awaken.  "Jin . . . c'mon love, it's time to get up."  Nothing -- Folken shook his head.  _She rolls around the bed like a rock all night and she sleeps like one too._

            With a devilish smile, Folken pulled the bed coverings down so that her shoulders and bare back were exposed.  He watched the goose bumps that formed on her warm skin as the chilly air hit it.  The fire had died out some time in the night and the interior of the lodge, while not completely uncomfortable, was still a little cool.  Reaching out, he gently brushed the fingertips of his left hand across her back.  His touch was very soft – almost fleeting – and he watched the small shiver that played across her back as she slept on.  Gently applying his fingers once more, he lingered a little longer on her skin and then ran his index finger down her spine.  Jindra twitched her shoulders and let out a small sound.  Folken made a face and shook his head.  _What does it take to get this girl out of bed?_

            For a third time, he lightly caressed her, but this time he planted a trail of kisses on her back.  Jindra let out a sigh and tried to pull the covers back up, but Folken caught them him his fist.  She turned over and pulled at the linens, opening her eyes as she did so.  Letting go of the bedclothes, Folken smiled at her.  "Well, good morning sleepy head.  So glad you decided to finally wake up and join me."  He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

            She groaned in response, "Huh . . . wha . . .?  Gods Folken, do you get up at the crack of dawn everyday?"  Pulling the covers back up, Jindra snuggled back into their warmth.  "Brrrrr, it's cold in here."

            "Are you always so grouchy in the morning?"  Folken's voice was playful, but she gave him a poisonous look.  Nonplussed, he continued on.  "And for your information, it is quite past the crack of dawn.  The sun's been up for at least two or three hours already."

            "Oh," she yawned and stretched a bit.  Snuggling back into the covers once again, she turned a little on her side to face him.  "How long have you been awake?"

            "No long, probably about an hour or so."  Folken reached down near his feet and brought up a mug.  "I managed to make some tea.  It's not particularly good, but it is hot."

            Jindra sat up and tucked the covers under her arms.  She took the mug and sipped, "Not too bad . . . a little on the strong side, but I can certainly live with that."  She smiled at him and took another sip.  "I don't suppose you have some toast and jam stashed down there too?"

            Folken laughed, "I wish – my stomach's been rumbling all morning.  Sorry my lady, but tea will have to suffice for now."

            "I'm so hungry I'm tempted to dig out what was left of yesterday's lunch."

            "Too late, I already tried that."  Folken grimaced, "Let's just say that it was not a pretty sight."

            He rose and reached for his boots.  Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, he put them on.  "I thought I'd go out and check on the horses."  He stood and slipped on his coat.  "There's some hot water here if you want to wash up a bit."  He indicated the wooden chair where he had retrieved his boots.  Bending down, he kissed her on the top of her head, "I'll be back in a little while."  Turning he went down the stairs and after a few minutes, she heard the front door loudly close.

            Jindra downed the rest of her tea and stretched back on the pillow.  _I wonder if he'll bring me tea in bed every morning once we're married.  She giggled at the thought.  __C'mon girl, time to stop mooning like a love-sick puppy – you don't have all day to loll around in bed.  Pushing back the covers, she shivered as the cool air hit her._

            As promised, a wooden tub with steam rising from it was sitting on the floor; and folded on the chair seat was a drying cloth and a wash rag, which was still damp.  Jindra also discovered that Folken had draped her clothing over the back of the chair, with her boots and black bag sitting on the floor next to it.  With a smile at his thoughtfulness, she bent down and trailed her fingers in the water.  She was disappointed to find that it wasn't as hot as she had hoped, but it would do for a quick rinse off.

            Jindra was dressed and had the drying cloth wrapped around her damp hair as she started to make up the bed.  As she stripped off the linens, several white feathers drifted to the floor.  _They're Folken's . . . from his wings.  Gathering the feathers up into a small pile, she ran her fingers over them.  __They're so soft . . . this one is as big as my hand . . . and they glow like pearls.  Without a second thought, she took the small bundle and stowed it away in her leather satchel and continued making up the bed.  Finished, she emptied out the tub of now cold water, took the empty mugs and went downstairs.  Leaving the mugs on the counter in the kitchen, she gathered up the blankets that she had removed from the wardrobe the night before, refolded them and took them back up to the loft._

            She was sitting on the edge of the bed unwinding the drying cloth from her hair when she heard the front door open.  "Jin?" Folken's voiced called out.

            "I'm upstairs."

            Folken quickly came up and joined her.  He found her trying to run her fingers through her tangled, damp hair.  She made a face as she found a particularly nasty snarl.  "What I wouldn't give for a comb, or even a brush right now.  Rinsing out my hair seemed like a good idea at the time."  She looked at him, "This is entirely your fault you know – if my hair were shorter it would be like this.  I swear I'm getting it all cut off when I get home."

            Folken sat down next to her, "Here, let me."  Pushing her hands away, he used the talon-like fingers of his metal hand to gently comb through her hair.  Jindra sighed and closed her eyes.  When he was finished, Folken pushed her hair away and kissed her neck.

            "How were the horses?"

            "Huh?"

            "The horses – you know those four-legged animals that we were riding yesterday?"

            "Very funny . . . they seemed alright, but they don't look too happy.  But then again, I wouldn't either if I were them – having to stand out in a shed all night with a storm; and to top it off, they don't even get breakfast."  Folken put his arms around her waist and she leaned back against his chest.

            "We can stop and let them graze a little on the way back.  We might even be able to stop at one of those farms we saw and buy something to eat.  I've got a little money in my bag."

            Folken rested his chin on her shoulder, "I wish we could stay here."

            Jindra sighed, "Me too . . . I don't want to be apart from you, but I know that you have to get back to the tower before you get in real trouble and I definitely need to get home."  Pulling out of his embrace, she turned towards him.  "But we'll be together soon and we won't have to worry about anyone."

            He touched her face, "I hope so."  Dropping his hand, he looked down for a few moments.  Raising his eyes back up to her face, he reached for her hands.  "I-I wish that I had a proper betrothal gift to give you.  But I wasn't planning on proposing to you yet."

            Jindra looked puzzled, "Betrothal gift?"

            "It's a Fanelian custom.  When a proposal is accepted, the couple will exchange gifts with one another – as a token of their affections and to seal the agreement.  It's usually a piece of jewelry or something else personal."

            "We don't have anything like that here – although it is customary to get the consent of the girl's parents, even if she is of age."  Jindra dropped her eyes, "But I won't ask you to do that Folken . . . I already know what the answer will be."

            He looked at her sadly, "It's not your fault, Jin.  I wish that things could be different too; but your mother doesn't necessarily hate me, she hates what I represent.  I don't hold her prejudices against her – gods know that the sorcerer's deserve their reputation."

            "But it's not fair to you," Jindra looked up at him.  "You're not like them Folken, you won't ever be like them."  He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, "No I won't; and it will be because of you Miss Jindra Roh . . . because of your love and belief in me."  He kissed her forehead.

            The two of them sat for a while, quietly holding one another.  It was Jindra who finally broke the embrace, "It's getting late, and we should probably finish cleaning up and get going."  Folken stood and held out his hand to her; smiling, she took it and allowed him to pull her up.  She smoothed out the bedcover one last time.  After a quick look around, she picked up her leather satchel and followed Folken downstairs.

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            The young couple quickly had the downstairs straightened up and Jindra was giving the kitchen area one last going over when Folken joined her.  "Looks like we're about done; I'll go bring the horses around."

            "I'll meet you outside in a few minutes."  Folken nodded in return and left

            Picking up her black satchel, Jindra pulled out a pencil and her sketching pad.  Tearing out a piece of paper, she leaned on the small counter and started writing.  She read the over the note several times before she was satisfied with it.  Reaching into her bag once more, she brought out her coin purse and counted out several coins.  She folded them up in the note and took it out to the front room where she left it on a side table.

            Taking one last look around, Jindra let her gaze wander around the lodge; she wanted to remember everything about this place.  It was once a place of happy memories from her childhood and last night it had become a place of refuge from the storm.  But more than that, it had also become a place of revelations, of acceptance, of love shared, and most importantly, a place of hope – hope for a future with Folken as his wife.

            She didn't realize how long she had been standing there until Folken opened the door and called her.  "Jin?  Are you ready?  I've been waiting . . ." She settled her satchel on her shoulder and turned towards him, "Yes . . . just taking a last look around."

            As Folken held the door open for her, and without a backward glance, Jindra Roh stepped out into the late morning sunshine.


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

_TWENTY-TWO_

            Folken and Jindra made a slow return journey towards the city as they kept their horses to a walk.  They had been traveling for about an hour or so when they stopped at a small farm to inquire about purchasing some food for themselves, as well as feed for their mounts.  The farmer and his wife had at first been suspicious and a little fearful of the travel-stained couple; but when they saw that the two carried no weapons and had coin to pay with, their fears eased a little and the two were invited in. 

            Folken had borrowed Jindra's cloak and draped it over his shoulder so that it hung down and helped to cover his metal arm and hand from view.  Then under her husband's watchful eye, the farm wife ushered the young couple into her kitchen and bid them to sit down at the table.

            Jindra and Folken surprised not only the farm wife, whose name they learned was Mrs. Gelinas; but also themselves with the extent of their appetites.  Watching the two young people devour the lunch that she had set out for them, the woman clucked her tongue.  "Only city people would be travelin' round the countryside without proper provisions."  Jindra and Folken both colored at her words.

            Swallowing the honey-coated bread that she had just taken a huge bite of, Jindra tried to explain; "We rode out this way for a picnic and got caught in that storm last night."

            "I jest bet ye did."  The woman eyed the two of them.  "Ye look like 'o pair newlyweds to me.  How long ye been wed?" She asked with a smile.

            Jindra and Folken both looked at one another and Jindra felt the blood rush to her face once again.  Mrs. Gelinas gave a small laugh at their expressions, "That new, huh?  Well, the two 'o ye make a fine lookin' couple, you do."  The woman practically beamed, "I been with my Taim for thirty years; gods willin', I'll be with him for thirty more.  He's a fine man – always done right by me."

            The farm wife gave Folken a pointed look, "That's my advice to ye young man, always do right by your woman."

            Startled, Folken could only stammer.  "Uh . . . y-yes . . . uh yes m'am."  Jindra bit her lip to keep for laughing aloud at his slightly uncomfortable expression.

            The woman then turned her attention to Jindra.  "My advice to you, little miss, is to never say I told ye so; even when he's wrong.  More'n likely he will be – he's only a man after all; jest don't go pointin' it out to him."  Jindra quickly glanced at Folken, and the expression on his face made her laugh even harder while he shot her a black look.

            Leaving the couple to finish their lunch, the woman continued on with whatever chores she had been in the middle of when they had arrived.

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            Jindra thought that she was going to burst when she finally pushed her plate away.  Looking at Folken, she was amazed to see that he was still eating quite heartily.  "Where are you putting all that?"

            Folken swallowed, "Hey, it's been a long time since I've had food this good."  Giving her a smug smile, he continued.  "Besides, you were putting it away pretty good yourself."

            "Well . . . uh . . ." Jindra felt the color rise in her face.  "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, what did you expect?"

            "Neither have I, in case you've forgotten."  Folken replied as he lifted the dark earthenware mug filled with spiced cider.  "Plus with all the other activity from last night . . . well, a man tends to build up a healthy appetite."  He winked at her as he took a drink.

            Jindra looked shocked, "Folken!"  She dropped her voice to a whisper.  "I can't – I can't believe you just said that."  She glanced around nervously, "Suppose someone heard you?"

            "C'mon Jin, relax – you're over-reacting.  Besides she thinks we're married – what does it matter?"

            "What does it matter?  Gods Folken, do you want everyone to know what we . . . what went on between us last night?  I don't know about you, but it's very personal to me; and I don't think I want everyone and their mother to know about it."

            Folken set his mug down and reached for her hand.  "It was only a joke – I'm sorry if you didn't find it funny.  But I love you Jindra, and I don't care who knows it."

            She squeezed his hand, "I love you too."  She glanced down, but he could see the blush that crept up her throat across her cheeks.  "It's just . . . I-I feel like . . . like everyone knows what we did – just by looking at me."  Her voice sounded small, "Do I . . . do I look any different today?"

            Folken let go of her hand and raised her chin up so that he could look into her eyes.  "You look like the woman I love, Jin – yesterday and today."  Taking her hand once more, he stroked his thumb against the back of her palm.  "But I know what you mean though.  I feel a little different too . . . but I don't feel guilty about being with you – about making love with you."  He gave her a smile, "Last night . . . last night was the most wonderful – the most perfect thing that I've ever felt and I won't let anyone make me feel guilty about it; and you shouldn't either."

            Just as he finished speaking, Mrs. Gelinas came bustling back into the kitchen with a wicker basket of what looked like clothing balanced on her hip.  "Just about finished up, are ye?"  Seeing the couple holding hands, she smiled.  "I'd say so, I'd say so; ah, to be young and in love again . . . well, young anyways."  Laughing, she set the basket down on the floor.

            Despite Folken's words, Jindra felt herself blush and she pulled her hand from his grasp.  Getting up from her seat, she turned to the older woman.  "That was some of the best food that I've had in a long time.  I can't believe I ate so much."

            The farm wife smiled at her, "Glad to have young people in the house again.  All 'o my children are grown and gone away with their own families.  They don't come round often enough for my likin', but that's the way of it, I suppose."  She gave Jindra a measured look.  "I 'spect your own mother will be missin' you too, now that ye got a man 'o yer own."  Jindra cast a quick glance in Folken's direction and she caught him watching her intently.

            Seeing the looks that passed between the young couple, the woman nodded to herself knowingly.  Looking at Folken, she spoke.  "Taim took care o' feeding yer horses, but ye might want to go have a look see at 'em and make sure they be alright.  They're tied up by the front fence."

            Folken raised an eyebrow at her not so subtle hint.  He wasn't sure if he should leave Jindra with this strange, talkative woman; but after a few moments consideration, he rose from the table and excused himself.  "Yes, they did have a bit of a rough night – with the storm and all.  I probably should just give them a quick once over."

            _She seems to be harmless enough; maybe she just wants to have some . . . what do they call it – girl talk?  Jin will be alright, she can handle herself.  Folken gave Jindra's arm a light squeeze as he left the room._

            Feeling a bit nervous after being left alone with Mrs. Gelinas, Jindra turned back to the table and started to clear off the dirty plates and utensils.  The older woman waved her hands, "Oh, leave all 'o that to me."

            Jindra shook her head, "Please, I'd like to help – you've been so kind to us Mrs. Gelinas; it's the least I can do."  The farm wife pointed to a wooden tub at the end of the counter, "Oh alright . . . ye can put the dishes 'an mugs in there then."

            The two women worked silently for several minutes as they cleared off the table.  After everything had been put into the waiting tub, Mrs. Gelinas reached for the large kettle that was hanging over the fireplace and poured hot water over the dirty plates, mugs and utensils.  "We'll jest let that soak a little -- how bout a cup 'o tea in the meantime?"  Jindra nodded yes and sat back down at the table.

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            "Is it always so quiet here?" Jindra asked as she waited for her tea to cool a little.

            Mrs. Gelinas smiled at her, "City folk don't like the quiet much, do they?"  She looked thoughtful for a moment.  "Been to the city a few times myself, didn't care much for it though.  Too many people, big buildings, strange machines everywhere – things is queer in the city."

            Jindra gave the woman a small smile of her own, "I've lived in the city my whole life; the country seems strange to me."  She didn't know why, but Jindra found herself warming up to the plain-speaking, motherly woman.  "Although it is nice to get away from everything for a while, to be able to find some peace and quiet without having to go miles and miles away from home."

            Mrs. Gelinas took a sip from her cup and gave the young woman a strange look.  "It's not every woman that'd take a man with one arm."

            "I-I . . . I'm sorry . . ." Caught off guard by the woman's words, Jindra could only stammer.  The older woman at least had the courtesy to blush, "Taim is always tellin' me to mind my own business; and here I go, stickin' my nose in where it don't belong again."

            Unsure of what to say, Jindra picked up her cup and took a long swallow.  She recalled that Folken had kept his right arm covered all afternoon and that he had only used his left hand during lunch.  _Of course . . . she thinks that he only has one arm._

            Setting her cup down, Jindra looked at the woman across from her.  She tried to mask the anger that she felt over the woman's intrusion into her personal life, especially since Mrs. Gelinas had been so kind the two of them.  But her voice still sounded a bit cold, "It doesn't matter to me, it's never mattered to me.  I can accept him for who he is – as he is."

            The farm wife dropped her eyes, "It's a hard thing though – it takes a lot 'o love and courage to take on that kind 'o responsibility."

            "I have plenty of the first, but I'm not so sure about the second."  Jindra tried to push some of her anger away and she gave the woman a small smile.

            The older woman gave her a measured look before speaking.  "Oh, I don't know 'bout that.  You were right quick to jump to his defense when ye thought I was lookin' down on him."  Jindra was surprised when Mrs. Gelinas reached across the table and patted her hand, "Course I'd be doin' the same for my Taim."

            The two women quietly sipped at their tea for a few moments.  Pouring herself another cup, Mrs. Gelinas broke the silence first.  "You two aren't really wed, are ye?"

            Jindra was startled and she was glad that she didn't have anything in her mouth as she was afraid that she probably would have started choking.  "W-Why . . . w-why would you t-think that?  Of course we're m-married."  Even as the words left her mouth, she could tell that the other didn't believe her; and Jindra felt herself color once again under the woman's scrutiny.

            "The two 'o ye ran off?"  The woman asked, but it sounded more like a statement of fact.

            Jindra shook her head vehemently, "No – that's not true – that's not what happened at all.  We really did ride out this way for a picnic yesterday afternoon, and we did get caught in that storm last night.  We stayed the night in a hunting lodge on the west side of the mountain."  Realizing she had said too much, Jindra quickly dropped her eyes from the other woman's face.

            "Yer awful brave to be goin' home after spending the night away with a man yer not married to."

            The younger woman kept her eyes focused on the tabletop in front of her.  "Well . . . uh . . . m-my parents don't – they don't know I was with him . . . at least, I don't think that they do; and before you ask, no I don't think they would like it at all.  In fact, if they even suspected that we spent the entire night alone together . . ." she trailed off and glanced up at the other woman.

            Mrs. Gelinas raised her eyebrows, "Yer father would be callin' him out, now would he?"   She saw the puzzled look that Jindra gave her.  "I'm guessin that the two 'o ye did a bit more'n sleeping last night?" 

            Jindra blushed furiously and looked back down at the table.  "Is it that obvious?"  Her voice sounded small.

            "What is it about young people nowadays?  Can't never wait for anything, always got to be in such a hurry."  Mrs. Gelinas shook her head.  "Course if ye were one 'o my daughters, ye can sure as bet I'd have switched every shred 'o skin off yer hide – and his too; and then I'd drag both 'o ye by the ear right down to the civil office."

            Feeling completely embarrassed, Jindra could not meet the woman's gaze and continued to stare down at the tabletop.  "My mother says she can always tell when I've done something that I shouldn't have."  Her voice gained a little strength as she continued, "But I . . . I don't believe that what happened between us was wrong.  I refuse to believe that something so beautiful could be wrong.  Besides, who cares if we're married or not – the fact that we love each other should be enough."

            "But he does plan on marryin' ye doesn't he?"

            Finally looking up, Jindra nodded her head.  "Oh yes; we are going to be married."  The woman heard something more in the young woman's words.  "But yer families don't approve 'o the match?"

            "No . . . well at least mine doesn't; and Folken doesn't have any family in the city.  But we're planning to elope and leave here anyway, so it doesn't really matter if my parents approve or not."  Jindra's voice sounded hard.

            Mrs. Gelinas reached out and patted her hand once again.  "You'd go an break the heart 'o your poor mother by just runnin' off?"

            Jindra's eyes looked as cold as her voice.  "I gave my mother the chance to meet him and get to know him – but she didn't even try.  Oh she smiled and shook his hand, but it was like she was meeting the lowliest, most disgusting thing on the face of Gaea.  So I really don't give a damn about my mother's feelings as far as this goes."

            The woman drew back from the intensity of Jindra's gaze.  "Well now, I don't really believe that an I don't think ye really do either – it's just the anger talkin'.  But I'll tell ye this:  when all else fails, the one thing that stays true is family.  Ye ever hear that old sayin', 'Blood is thicker than water'?  Well, they jest ain't words."

            The young woman's voice was softer as she replied.  "I know . . . and I hate that I have to go behind my parent's backs to be with him; but unfortunately, that's how it has to be.  Maybe one day my parents will open their eyes and see how happy the two of us are together – how much we love one another.  But I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for it to happen either."

            "Well, speakin' as 'o mother myself; all I ever wanted was for my girls to be happy and have a man that was able to take care 'o them and give'em a good life.  Now my youngest, Maris, she had her heart set on one 'o them Fortinier boys over by Northgate.  I'll tell ye straight, Taim and me didn't care much for him ourselves – always seemed a bit uppity if ye know what I mean.  But Maris, well she wasn't goin' to take no for an answer; and so we eventually said yes.  If it didn't turn out that Thom Fortinier wasn't at all like we thought; in fact, he's probably my favorite son-in-law; and his mama and I became great friends."  She saw the puzzled look that Jindra gave her.  "What I'm tryin' to say is, give your parents some time – they jest might surprise ye."

            Jindra gave Mrs. Gelinas a small smile, "I hope so . . . I really do."  She poured herself another cup of tea.

            "I know ye think I'm jest some old busybody, but I took a likin' to the two o' ye right away.  Don't know why, but soon as I saw the pair 'o ye, well it jest felt like you were 'o couple of my own come home to visit.  Course they all think I'm jest some meddlin' old fool too; but I don't mean no harm by it."

            Jindra smiled as the older woman finished and then she reached across the table and touched her hand.  "You've been very kind, Mrs. Gelinas.  You invited two strangers into your house and made them feel welcome.  I don't know why, but I felt that I could trust you and talk to you.  You don't know how grateful I am for that.  Sometimes it's just so hard to keep everything bottled up inside; and I don't really want to put all of this on Folken – he feels guilty enough about what's happened with my family as it is.  Thank you so much for listening to me; and thank you for the advice too.  Your daughters are very lucky to have a mother like you – I hope they appreciate it."

            The other woman smiled back and the two finished their tea in silence; and that was how Folken found them when he came to collect Jindra to resume their journey back to the city.


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

_TWENTY-THREE_

            Folken and Jindra brought their horses to a stop about a mile or so away from the city.  It was early evening and the sun was just setting -- it would be fully dark by the time they reached the gate.  Waiting until nightfall had been Jindra's idea; she thought that it might be easier for Folken to slip back into the tower under the cover of darkness.  Folken didn't think that it would make much difference, but he went along with her anyway.  _They're probably watching all the gates anyway; they'll know the minute I set foot inside the city._

            Jindra dismounted and looked out towards the city lights.  In all the times that she had traveled outside Zaibach, she had never seen the city lit up at night from a distance.  Reaching for her canteen, she took a swallow as she gazed at her birthplace.  _It's so ugly – I always thought so . . . but to see it like this . . ._

_            Thrusting up from the very heart of the city, like a deadly black dagger was the sorcerer's tower – the seat of power in the Zaibach Empire; and Jindra felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at that cold dark building.  __How can I let him go back there?  Wrenching her eyes away, she looped the canteen strap back over the pommel of her saddle._

            She jumped a little when Folken came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.  "Are you alright, Jin?  You were shivering."  Jindra leaned back against him, "I just felt a chill, that's all."  Folken kissed her hair and looked out towards the city, "It's not too late, we can still turn around."

            Twisting in his embrace, she turned to face him.  "I know; but as much as my heart says to do it, my head is there to remind me that we have no food, very little money and just the filthy clothes on our backs.  Unfortunately, I think my head is going to win this time."

            Jindra let her head rest on Folken's chest and he tightened his arms around her.  "I know what you mean; but this way, we'll have time to make a proper plan and get everything together.  If we have to leave, at least we'll know where we're going and how we're going to get there."  He kissed the top of her head, "I don't want to be separated from you for a second, but I know that it's the only way right now."

            "What do you think will happen when you get back?  What will they do to you?"  Jindra's voice was soft as she spoke, but he could hear the concern in her words.

            "I-I don't know . . . I'll probably be brought to Dornkirk."  He hesitated a bit, "It – it might be best if we don't enter the city together."  Jindra raised her head and looked at him.  "Why?  Do you think they're watching the gates for you?"

            "I'd be surprised if they weren't.  I don't want to put you in any danger, so you should probably go in before me – alone."  Jindra's eyes widened in fear, "They wouldn't hurt you, would they?    I swear Folken, if you thing that's what will happen, then . . ."

            He didn't let her finish, "No – no; don't worry, no one is going to hurt me."  Folken looked over her shoulder, towards the city in the distance.  "Dornkirk wants something from me, so he isn't likely to jeopardize that by physically hurting me."  He brought his eyes back to Jindra's anxious face, "I'll be alright – I promise."  Folken gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, but he could tell that she wasn't convinced.  _Well, that makes two of us._

            "What about you?  I bet your mother is fit to be tied right about now."

            Jindra let out a very unladylike snort and rolled her eyes.  "That's the understatement of the day.  I'll be lucky if I'm allowed within fifty feet of the stables, let alone a horse for the next two or three months.  It'll be like that time I ran away from home; although I'm a little old to get my bottom switched this time."

            Folken laughed, "You ran away -- when?"

            "I was very young at the time," Jindra pulled away from him.  "I don't really remember." 

            "C'mon Jin, tell me about it.  No secrets, remember?"

            She glared at him, "It's not a secret . . . it's – it's just something that I did that was very stupid and if I would have stopped to think about it at the time, it was very dangerous too."

            Folken could see from Jindra's expression that whatever had happened had been serious and he stopped laughing.  "What happened?  I want to know."  He put his hand on her arm and gave her an encouraging smile, "Please, tell me Jindra – trust me."

            Jindra turned away from him and looked back at the city.  "I was eight years old.  Coren had just turned twelve and my parents had arranged to send him away to school.  Coren and I had always been together – we were almost inseparable.  Even though I was a girl, and I was younger, he never treated me like I was a pest – like most of his friends did to their brothers and sisters.  He let me tag along and play whatever game he and his friends were playing, kind of like I was one of the boys.  I idolized him for that, and I still do.

            When I found out that they were sending him away, it was like my entire world crashed down around me.  I cried, I threw temper tantrums and threatened to do all kinds of horrible things if he was sent away.  I told my parents that I hated them and that I didn't want to be their daughter anymore.  It's a wonder my father didn't beat me himself then.  But to make it all even worse, Coren wanted to go. I couldn't believe it – I couldn't believe that he wanted to leave me behind!  I think that's what hurt the most – so I ran away.  I took some food and one of my father's horses and left the city.  I thought I was so smart and I didn't need anyone --- and they would all be sorry when they found out I was gone."

            She paused for a few moments, as she wrapped her arms around herself.  "The only other place besides Palas that I had been to outside the city was the lodge."  She turned her head and glanced at him, "The same lodge where you and I spent last night."  Turning back, she focused on the city again.  "So that's where I headed.  I wasn't completely sure of where it was, but I knew the general direction – so I went west, sure that I would be able to find it.  Of course I got hopelessly lost and then it started to get dark; and suddenly I wasn't so smart anymore.  I was a scared little eight-year old girl.

            I started crying and the horse was having hard time trying to walk on the path in the dark, so I dismounted and walked with it.  I don't know how long we wondered around in the woods when I caught my foot.  I remember hearing a crack and then I was falling.  I think I must have hit my head, because the next thing I knew, it was daylight.  I woke up on the ground and my foot was burning with pain.  The horse was gone, along with what little food and water I had brought; so I just laid there and cried.  I was so certain that I was going to die, all alone – or worse, that some wild animal was going to find me.  Months later, I still woke up crying from nightmares."

            Folken saw her shiver from the memory, so he stepped towards her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  Jindra closed her eyes for a few moments, savoring the warm and comfort of his body.  Folken remained silent as he waited for her to continue.

            "I passed in and out of consciousness, the pain in my foot and leg was unbearable.  But I remember hearing a voice call my name and I thought it was a dream.  But then I felt someone lift my head and they spoke my name again.  It was Coren – he had come across the horse wondering back down the path and he had found me.  He had guessed where I had run away to, so he had come after me.  I remember he was crying and asking me how I could do something so stupid.  The next thing I knew, I woke up at home – in my own bed.

            Apparently Coren had brought a couple of the stable hands with him and they made a litter and took me back to the city.  I can still remember my father's face when I woke up – I don't think that I ever saw him cry before that day.  I told him that I was sorry for running away and begged him to forgive me, but I could see the disappointment on his face.  He kissed me on the forehead and told me to rest and get better, but he never did say if he forgave me or not.

            My mother, of course, was in a rage; and although she didn't lay me out then, she didn't forget about punishing me for it later.  After the cast came off my ankle and I was on the mend, she switched me to within an inch of my life; I swear I couldn't sit down for almost two weeks.  I was banned from the stables for three months and I couldn't ride alone for almost six months after that.  But in between all that, Coren left for school and I was all alone anyway."

            Jindra dropped her arms, "See, I told you it was a stupid story."  Folken gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head, "No Jin, it's not stupid.  You love your brother, and that's the way it should be."

            Folken took his arms from her shoulders and let them slide down her arms so that he could grasp her hands.  "I was a lot like Coren when it came to Van.  Before he was born, I was so tired of being alone – I wanted a brother or sister so much.  One of the happiest days of my life was when he was born. I loved spending time with him, even though he was so much younger than me.  He used to ask me to read to him, especially on rainy days when we couldn't go outside or at night before bed.  He was so bright and curious; he always wanted to know everything about everything.  I used to think that his favorite word was, 'why'.  Sometimes he would drive me crazy with his constant questions; but then, I'd look into those big eyes of his and I couldn't be angry with him anymore."  He fell silent, but Jindra had heard the melancholy tone in his voice.

            Breaking his grasp, she turned again to face him.  Putting her hands on his chest, she lifted up and face and kissed him.  "You miss him, don't you?"  Folken barely nodded his head, but she could see the sadness in his eyes.  Reaching up, she softly stroked his cheek with her fingertips.  "I didn't mean to make you sad, Folken."

            He looked down at her, "I'm never sad when I'm with you, Jin.  I like talking to you about Van, because I know you understand – you know what it's like, you know how I feel.  I wish that you could meet him; I know that he would love you.  I just wish . . . I just wish . . . He trailed off, unable to continue.

            Jindra put her arms around Folken's waist and rested her head on his chest once more.  "It's alright, I know what you mean; and I wish it too."

            Folken put his arms around her and the two quietly held one another while the twilight deepened around them.

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            Jindra reined her horse to a stop as she reached the front courtyard of her home.  Dismounting, she untied the reins of the other horse from her saddle.  As she waited for one of the grooms to appear, she took a quick look around and saw her father's carriage parked on the other side of the stable.  She knew that it was his, as she could see the seal of office painted on the door in the flickering torchlight.  There were also several unfamiliar horses tied to the hitching post.  _Great, just great . . . I'm really in it now.  Although what did you expect you stupid girl?  Did you really thing you could just disappear for two days and no one would care?_

            She had left Folken about half a mile outside the city gate.  He had insisted that she take both the horses with her and that he would be fine continuing in on foot.  Jindra had not wanted to leave him, but they both agreed that it would best for the time being.  The two had kissed deeply and held each other for quite sometime before finally saying goodbye.  Jindra hated the thought of Folken returning to the sorcerer's tower because she feared for his safety.  Folken had again tried to convince her that he would be alright, but she still didn't believe him.  Before they parted, he had promised to get in touch with her as soon as he could; and with one last kiss, Jindra had left him on the side of the road.  She couldn't explain why, but she had felt a deep sense of foreboding, and she was till uneasy.

            Jindra was startled out of her thoughts by the sudden appearance of the groom at her side.  The man gave her a strange, almost sad look as he silently took the reins from her and led the horses away.  _How strange . . . but I'm sure the whole household knows I was gone by now.  Guess they didn't expect me to turn up on my own._

            Turning, she looked at the front of the house for a few minutes.  Lights blazed in several of the closed windows, yet the whole house seemed oddly silent.  Taking a deep breath, Jindra started up the front steps.  Reaching the front door, she too another breath to steel herself before turning the handle.  _Time to face the music -- as they say . . ._

            As she stepped into the entry hall, Jindra felt a sense of uneasiness about the place.  Closing the door as silently as she could, she was tempted to creep upstairs to her room; but the utter quiet of the house unnerved a bit.  Standing in the hallway, she thought that she heard the barest hint of voices; but they were so low that she couldn't recognize them.  Jindra guessed that her parents were probably in the front parlor or the library; and steeling herself once again, she quietly crept down the hall.

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            She was standing in front of the closed parlor door trying to listen to the voices within, when it was suddenly opened.  Her mother's maid was just as startled to find her there and the girl let out a small squeak of surprise.  "M-Miss – M-Miss Roh!  Oh, Miss Roh – you're back!"

            Jindra's parents were seated together on the small loveseat.  Erich Roh had one arm around his wife's shoulders, while the other held one of her hands.  Doreena was crying and clutched a pale handkerchief in her lap.  Jindra met her parent's startled faces as she stepped into the room.

            Her father was on his feet in an instant, "Jindra!  Gods above and below!  Where the hell have you been?"  Reaching her, Erich gripped her arms tightly with his hands and Jindra winced a little from the pressure.  "Jindra – are you listening to me?  Where have you been?"  Perhaps sensing his daughter's discomfort, Erich let go of his grip on her arms.

            Doreena Roh however, was suddenly at her husband's side and she pushed him away from Jindra.  Doreena's hands replaced those of her husband, and she started to shake her daughter as she raged.  "Answer your father, Jindra!  Where have you been?  Why did you leave?  How could you just disappear like that?  You stupid, stupid girl – we thought you were gone too."

            Jindra began to feel panicked, for she had never seen her mother in such a state before.  Twisting, she tried to get away.  "Mother – don't . . . please . . . you're hurting me.  I-I-I'm sorry . . . I-I didn't mean to . . ."

            Erich stepped between the two women as he tried to break his wife's grasp.  "Reena – stop it – let go!  Doreena!  Damn it woman, get a hold of yourself – can't you see you're hurting her?"

            Wrenching his wife's hands away, he motioned for the maid.  "Help Mrs. Roh – quick girl!"  Doreena finally dropped her arms and sobbed as the maid led her back to the loveseat.  Once Doreena was seated, the girl brought her a glass of brandy and held it, as she took small sips in an effort to calm down.

            Turning back towards his daughter, Erich gently put his hands on her shoulders.  "Are you alright, Love?"  Jindra nodded as her tears fell.  Swallowing, she tried to explain.  "I-I went riding and . . . I got caught in the s-storm.  I-I was too far away . . . I couldn't m-make it back . . . I-I'm – I-I'm s-sorry . . . I . . ."

            She broke off as she finally took in her father's pale face and hollow, red-rimmed eyes.  Looking at her mother as she sobbed on the loveseat, Jindra suddenly felt very afraid.  She knew that her parents would be worried and upset, but she had a feeling of something more being gravely amiss and it frightened her.  Looking back at her father, she was about to speak when the parlor door opened and two men entered.

            Jindra knew one of the men right away and she began to feel slightly confused.  _Why is Commandant Varada here?  The Commandant was the headmaster of the military academy that Coren had graduated from; and although she didn't know the man well, Jindra had been introduced to him several times.  The younger man at his side was not familiar to her, but he was dressed in a military uniform; but it was not the standard academy uniform and he looked very official.  Jindra looked at the Commandant and she felt her throat go dry at the sad, almost pitying look that he gave her._

            Looking back at her father once again, she could only stammer.  "F-Father . . . w-what's going on?  W-Why is h-he here?  F-Father?"

            Erich Roh took his daughter's hand as the tears began to course down his face.  "J-Jindra – Love . . . there's been . . . there's been an accident.  The guymelef . . . Coren . . . he – Coren . . . he's gone . . . oh Jindra – your b-brother . . . he's g-gone."  Unable to control his emotions anymore, Jindra's father let go of her and put both of his hands to his face as he sobbed.  "H-He's d-d-dead, Jindra . . . C-Coren's dead."  Doreena let out a wail as her husband broke down.

            Jindra heard her father's last words, but it was almost as if she didn't understand what he had said.  _Gone – dead?  It's not – it can't be . . . She stood like a statue, her limbs frozen in shock.  __No . . . no – no!  Coren!  NO!  Almost immediately, she found it very hard to breath and there was a tightness in her chest that left her gasping for air__.  No! It can't be true . . . no . . ._

            "NO!  CORRENNNNN!"  Starting to sway, the last thing she remembered was her father yelling her name as he caught her before she hit the floor.


	24. Chapter TwentyFour

_TWENTY-FOUR_

            "Is she alright?" Erich Roh asked as he held his unconscious daughter's hand while he sat on the bed next to her.  "I-I can't l-lose her too . . . she'll be alright, won't she?"  His voice shook with fear as he blinked back tears. 

            A hand gripped his shoulder, "She'll be fine, Erich;" a man's voice replied from behind him.  "It's just shock, that's all.  I've given her something to keep her asleep for the rest of night – the same as Doreena.  A bit of untroubled rest will do the both of them good.  Actually, it would do all of you some good."

            Erich brushed the hair from Jindra's face with his free hand.  "Thank you for coming Simon.  I-I didn't know what to do . . . she just collapsed, and then – then Doreena became hysterical again . . . and – and  . . . this is just too much – it's all just too much for us to bear."  Letting go of his daughter's hand, he covered his face and finally let his tears come once again.

            Simon Kaberle looked at his long-time friend with a sadness that he felt to very depths of his soul.  He had known Erich Roh since childhood; they were best friends, as close as brothers.  Simon had followed in his father's footsteps and become a physician, while Erich had chosen a political life in the Zaibach government.  Simon had stood up with his friend when he had married the fiery daughter of an Asturian merchant twenty-four years ago and Erich had repaid the favor when he himself took a bride a few years later.  Their families lived only blocks away from each other and their children had grown up together.  Simon grieved with Erich and his family as if they were his own.

            Simon gripped his friend's shoulder once again.  "You don't have to bear this alone, Erich.  Petra and I are here for you.  If you need anything – anything at all – just ask.  We'll do whatever we can for as long as you need us to.  Petra is just heartsick – she wanted to come with me . . ." Simon choked back tears of his own as he released Erich's shoulder.  "I-I just can't believe it . . . I can't believe that he's really gone."

            Wearily he sat down in a chair next to the bed, facing Erich.  Reaching into this coat, he brought out a silver flask.  Unscrewing the cap, he took a deep swallow.  Reaching over, he nudged his friend and held the flask out, "Doctor's orders."

            With a slightly shaky hand, Erich gripped the flask and took a deep drink.  He felt the liquor as it burned down his throat.  Silently, he looked at the ornate bottle, watching the play of light as it reflected off its gleaming surface.  Sighing, he took another swallow before handing it back.  Simon replaced the cap and stowed the bottle back in his coat.  

            "I still don't understand what happened," he said, as he rubbed his face with his hand.

            "A-An accident – during training exercises," Erich's voice was soft as he replied.  "T-There was an explosion . . . Coren wasn't the only one – there was another pilot involved.  The other boy was seriously hurt, but they think he'll pull through."

            "There has to be more to it than that.  Someone has to know what happened."

            "I don't know . . . the man that came here with Vardas said that it could have been a communication error – a miscue of some sort between the pilots.  But there's also the possibility that there was some kind of design error, a problem with the weapons.  I got the feeling that's what the he – the major – thought.  He said they were already investigating it.  Apparently the 'melefs were prototype models and the pilots had only been training with them for a few months.  Coren had been hand-picked to train with them; and he was so excited about it."

            Erich looked down at his daughter as she slept.  "Jindra was so proud of him – we all were."  Taking his daughter's hand once again, he continued on.  "You know how close the two of them were . . . I'm worried about her Simon, t-this isn't going to be easy for any of us, but . . . but you know how she always idolized him.  Y-You should have seen her when I – when I . . ." He felt tears in his eyes again and quickly tried to brush them away.

            "I should have listened to Doreena and sent her away to Palas.  She'd be married by now and at least have a husband to help her through this . . . not that we won't be here for her . . . but – but I don't know if it will be enough.  I don't know if I have enough strength for the both of them, Simon . . . I don't know if I have enough strength for myself."  Unable to stop, Erich Roh let his tears fall once again, as his voice broke.  "How are we supposed to get through this?"

            Simon felt a pain in his heart, and he knew that he could no longer hold back his own grief.  Reaching over, he put his hand over the other man's.  "You'll get through this Erich; it won't be easy, but you won't be alone.  You have my word that Petra and I will be there for you and your family.  We'll help you in anyway that we can . . . just don't shut us out.  You can't shoulder all of this yourself . . . you're right, it is too much for one person to bear, so let us help you – let us give you some of our strength . . . let us share your grief with you."

            Erich merely nodded his head as he pulled his hand away.  Reaching over, he embraced his long-time friend and his voice was only a whisper.  "Thank you my friend . . . no, my brother.  I've always loved you like one Simon, and I can really use one right now."  Simon smiled a little to himself and patted Erich on the back.

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            Simon Kaberle embraced his grief-stricken friend once again as the two men stood in the foyer at the front door.  "I'll come in the morning to check on Doreena and Jindra.  They should both sleep through the rest of the night."  Stepping back, he looked at Erich with a critical eye, "You should try to get some rest too.  I can give you something if you like."

            Erich shook his head, "No, I'll be alright."  Simon knew from past experience that it was pointless to argue with the other man, so he merely nodded his head.  "If you need anything tonight, don't hesitate to send for me.  Anything – you understand?"

            "I will . . . thank you Simon, thank you for everything; I don't know what I'd do without you here.  I just feel so lost . . ." Simon Kaberle embraced Erich one last time, "Rest Erich, that's what you need to do right now.  I'll see you in the morning, okay?"  Erich nodded silently and reached to open the front door.

            As he stepped out onto the front steps, Simon reassuringly gripped his friend's shoulder.  Then turning away, he started down the steps and walked towards the street at a brisk pace.  Erich Roh watched him until he reached the street and then shut door.

            The servants had all been dismissed earlier and the house was still.  Putting out the lights in the foyer, Erich went down the hall to the front parlor.  Sitting down on the loveseat in the dimly-lit room, he ran his hands through his hair and rubbed at his eyes.  Resting his elbows on his knees, he sat staring at nothing for several long minutes.  Then after slowly rising, he walked over the sideboard and poured out a very generous glass of brandy.  Drinking deeply, he drained the glass in two swallows.  Looking at the empty glass for several moments, he reached for the decanter once again.  But just as he was about to pour, he shook his head.  Carrying both the glass and the decanter, he left the parlor and walked upstairs.

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            Erich Roh stood next to his bed and looked down at his wife's sleeping face.  There were faint lines around her eyes and mouth that he couldn't recall ever seeing before; and except for a maturing of her features and figure, Doreena still looked much the same as she did when they had first met.  He could still vividly recall when he had first seen her all those years ago in Palas . . .

            Doreena Vardas had not been the most beautiful woman in the room that night; but there had been something about her – something that had drawn several young men to her side, including a very nervous young trade representative from the Zaibach Empire.

            Doreena's shining dark hair had been coiled up in an elaborate style and her jewelry had been rather modest, when compared to most of the other women in the room:  a thin silver necklace that held just the spark of a diamond at the hollow of her throat, and small delicate earrings that matched.  Her dress had been unadorned, but made from some of the finest silk to be found in Palas; and the elbow length gloves had been dyed to match.

            But it had been her eyes that Erich remembered the most – those silvery gray eyes that were a perfect match for the dress – the eyes that held a spark of fire and passion in their depths.  _How I wanted her to look at me with those eyes . . . how I wanted to drown in them; and she had looked at him._

            Erich had never believed in love at first sight until that moment.  But when their eyes had met, it was as if an instant connection – like a recognition of sorts – had been made between the two of them.  He had watched as Doreena had blushed to a deep crimson before turning her head away.  Normally shy, Erich had felt a boldness that was so uncharacteristic, that it had scared him.  Without any hesitation or nervousness, he had stepped right up to her and introduced himself.

            Doreena had by then regained her composure, and if she had been shocked by his forwardness, she never showed it.  With a smile, she had taken his offered hand and allowed herself to be led out to the dance floor.  The two had danced every set, much to the disappointment of several men in the room.  It was after the third set, that Erich had told her that she was going to marry him.  Doreena had raised her eyebrows and looked at him like he was a raving lunatic.  He had laughed at the expression on her face before boldly taking her hand and kissing it.  Blushing again, she had snatched her hand away and told him that he was mad.  Erich had merely smiled at her as he once again held his hand out to her.  Doreena had given him a long measuring look; and then, almost as if she had been accepting a challenge, she had taken his hand as she gave him an almost sly looking smile of her own.

            _Oh Reena . . . has it really been twenty-six years?  So much . . . we went through so much to be together.  Forgetting the glass, Erich raised the decanter to his lips and took a deep swallow.  __I just hope we can get through this._

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            Unable to find any rest, Erich went to look in on his daughter.  Without even realizing it, he took the half-empty brandy decanter with him.  Looking down at Jindra as she slept, he was struck by how grown up she had become.  As he had risen through the ranks of the trade office, Erich had been required to travel out of Zaibach for extended periods of time.  Looking at his seventeen year old daughter, he wondered how he could have missed so much.  _My little girl . . . all grown up now.  Old enough to marry . . . old enough to leave home on her own . . ._

            Coren and Jindra had both inherited Erich's reddish-brown hair and fair skin.  While Coren had also inherited his father's blue eyes, Jindra had gotten Doreen's silvery gaze – and just like her mother, she also had a devil of a temper with a streak of stubbornness to match.  _No wonder the two of them clash like steel on steel . . . they're too much alike.  A sad smile played on his face at the thought._

            Taking a swallow from the decanter, Erich looked around his daughter's room.  On the wall by her closet -- hanging point down from a wooden rack -- was Jindra's sword.  He winced as he thought about the war that had erupted when he had given it to her for her fourteenth birthday.  _She had been so excited because she finally had a real sword of her own, not one of Coren's old hand-me-downs.  Reena was so mad . . . I thought she was going to throw me out of the house – or out the window._

            Walking towards the window that faced down into the garden, he paused to scan the floor to ceiling bookshelf.  Books of all sizes were crammed onto the shelves until the wood had bowed from the weight.  Jindra was a voracious reader and the subjects ranged from history, to poetry, to mythology, to fiction and just about everything else in between.  Erich ran his fingers over the spines of several books as he read their titles:  _The Religious Mythology of Freid, A Ladies Book of Romantic Poetry, Sea Songs and Stories, The Lore of the Knights Caeli._

            Leaving the book case, Erich went to the window and glanced out.  Set up next to the window was an easel and sketching tablet.  On a small table next to it were pencils, watercolors, brushes and several other pads.  Erich had always admired his daughter's artistic abilities.  _I don't know where she got that from . . . no one on my side of the family ever had any talent for art._

            Picking up one of tablets from the table, he leafed through it, admiring Jindra's work.  There were pictures of their house, the garden, what looked like the city clock; and, as he got towards the end of the pad, a large sketch of a young man whom he didn't recognize.  Erich raised his eyebrows, for Jindra rarely did portraits.  _So who are you?_

            Erich studied the picture, trying to see if he could place the man.  Flipping the page, he found several other small sketches of the same man, some in more detail than others.  The young man had angular features and didn't look like he was much older than Jindra.  He also had rather sad looking eyes and long pale hair, or at least that is what it looked like, judging by how it had been drawn.  Erich could tell by the details of his daughter's drawings that the man was obviously someone she knew quite well and he became even more curious.

            After glancing at Jindra's sleeping form, Erich looked back down at the portrait.  _A sweetheart – is that what you are?  When the hell did she get to be old enough to have a sweetheart – and why didn't I know anything about it?  Closing the tablet, he put it back down on the table and once more raised the brandy decanter to his lips.  Looking at the crystal bottle, he was surprised to see that it was empty.  Setting it down on the table, he went back to his daughter's bedside._

            _When did you and Coren grow up?  How could I have missed so much of your lives and not even realized it until now?  Feeling tears spark in his eyes, Erich hastily brushed his hands over them.  Taking Jindra's hand, he held it between both of his.  "I'm sorry that I wasn't always here for you and Coren . . . I'm sorry that I missed so much.  But I do love you . . . and – and I promise I'll be here for you from now on."  Releasing his daughter's hand, Erich bent and kissed her on the forehead.  "I promise Love, I'll be here for you . . . from now on."_


	25. Chapter TwentyFive

_TWENTY-FIVE_

            Folken managed to get to the bottom of the steps before he started shaking.  Taking several deep breaths, he quickly walked down the main hall until he came to a junction with one of the lesser used corridors.  Bearing off, he made it to one of the small window alcoves before he finally broke down.  Bracing his hands against the wall, he leaned his forehead on the cool stone.  Sucking in deep painful gulps of air, he slid down to the floor as his knees finally gave out.  His skin felt hot and his clothing was soaked with sweat, but yet he still shivered as if he were freezing.  He felt sick to his stomach and was unable to stop the heaves when they came.  But I didn't – I didn't tell him . . .

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            Just as he had thought, the tower guards had been watching for him; and Folken had found himself surrounded on all sides within seconds of passing through the west gate.  Without a word, he had let himself be led away.  As he walked, Folken thought about what would happen when he and his escort reached the tower.  He knew that Dornkirk would be furious, and the possibilities of the emperor's wrath finally began to sink in.  _I shouldn't be thinking about this – I need to keep a clear head.  I need to think about what I'm going to tell him . . . he'll know if I'm lying . . . I don't have to tell him the whole truth, just enough to convince him that I was alone . . ._

            When the party finally reached the tower, Folken felt a sense of dread growing within him despite his best efforts to the contrary.  As the group passed through the halls, he tried to keep his head high and his eyes straight ahead; but he was aware of the looks and whispers as he passed by.  He was taken directly to the emperor's throne room, just as he had expected; but he had been puzzled when two of the guards escorted him into the darkened chamber.  With a rough hand, one of them had pushed him forward.  Surprised by the man's action, Folken had almost stumbled; and after straightening himself up, he had given the man a hard look.  The guard had made no acknowledgement as he positioned himself next to one of the large closed double doors.

            Folken had taken several deep breaths to try and quell the nervousness that was creeping though him.  He had felt the sweat as it rolled down his back and his mouth suddenly became very dry.  Willing himself to stay still, he had waited for Dornkirk to appear.  The room had seemed even darker and more oppressive then before, and it had taken all of the strength that he had not to tremble.  _He's doing this on purpose – making me wait.  I hate these stupid mind games!  Folken had been surprised by his own anger, especially when he knew that he should have been cowering in fear._

            "So . . . you have returned to us."  Dornkirk's deep voice resonated throughout the chamber.

            Folken had gathered some of his new-found courage and elegantly dropped to one knee, his head bowed to the man before him.  "I have, my emperor."

            "Do you really think your courtly manners impress me?  If I want boot-licking sycophants, there are quite a number more suited to the task than you."  Dornkirk loomed about him in the shadowed room.

            "I had no wish to offend you, my emperor."  Folken had raised his head a little, but his eyes were still on the floor in front of him.  "I merely wanted to show you the respect that I have for you."

            "Respect – and just what respect have you shown me, Folken?  I saved your life . . . gave you a home . . . shared my knowledge with you . . . and you would show me your respect by running away?"

            "Y-Your majesty . . . I didn't run away . . . It was always my intention to return . . . "Folken had tried to keep himself from stammering, but to no avail.

            "Did you really believe that you could just walk back into the tower – my tower – without having to face the consequences of your actions, Folken?"  Dornkirk's voice seethed with anger.

            The young man had tried to keep his voice steady as he replied.  "No . . . no, your majesty . . . I am quite prepared to accept whatever punishment you render.  All I ask is that you allow me to explain the circumstances before you pass judgment on me."

            "Ask?"  Dornkirk had laughed, and Folken had felt his skin crawl from the sound.  "What makes you think that you are in a position to ask for anything, my errant student?"  The emperor's voice had held a menacing tone and the apprentice had felt his bravado slipping away.

            Swallowing hard, Folken had tried again.  "Except for this one indiscretion, I have done all that you have asked of me – and more, your majesty.  I would hope that such dedication would be worth something.  If I could be allowed to explain what happened . . ."

            As if they had received some unspoken signal, the two guards had moved towards Folken and positioned themselves on both sides of his kneeling form.  Folken had been startled when his arms were ceremoniously gripped and he was forced down on both knees.  Feeling panicked, he had tried to struggle, but the men had held him in an iron grip.  Then just as silently, a third man had appeared and stood next to him, facing the emperor.

            Dornkirk had smiled down at him.  "Have no fear Folken; you will have the opportunity to tell me everything that I wish to know – and more.  You will cry and grovel at my feet as you beg for mercy before I am finished with you this night."

            As he had moved closer to the prostrate figure on the floor, the emperor's voice had been low and cold.  "First, I wish to know how you were able to leave the tower without being seen.  Pray that I find your answer satisfactory, Folken; otherwise, I fear that it could prove to be quite . . . painful."

            The questioning then began.

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            Folken had told Dornkirk what he wanted to know – for the most part.  But he had managed to keep any mention of Jindra, the lodge; and most importantly, his secret passage out of the tower just that – a secret.  The story that he had told the emperor had contained enough of the truth that it certainly sounded plausible, but Folken knew that Dornkirk had not been entirely convinced.  But the emperor knew that he would get nothing more out of Folken and had finally allowed him to be released.

            Lying on the cold stone floor of the throne room, it had been quite sometime before Folken had found the strength to get up.  Struggling to his knees, he had needed to wait for several minutes before he could stand upright.  His whole body had hurt, and it had been painful to even draw a breath.  The guards had departed soon after releasing him, and the doors to the chamber had been opened.  Steadying himself, Folken had gingerly walked out of the throne room and painfully descended the stairs to the main hall.

            As he crouched on his knees in the window alcove trying not to be sick, Folken felt a small measure of satisfaction and triumph.  I didn't tell him . . . I didn't let him break me . . . you're safe Jin – safe.  I won't let him hurt you . . . I didn't tell him . . .

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            Folken eventually found his way back to his quarters amidst the hushed whispers and stares of the hallways.  After closing the door, he bolted the lock and quickly turned to scan the front room.  Someone's been here.  With a painful shrug of his shoulders, he walked to the small washroom and very slowly began to peel off his clothes.

            Wincing whenever he found a particularly tender spot, he bit his already split lip and tasted blood in his mouth more than once.  After removing his shirt, Folken stood back a little and looked at himself in the small wall mirror.  He could see the blossoming bruises and welts that covered his chest.  Without trying to look, he knew that this back probably looked very similar.  Turning to his life side a little bit, he could see the bruises on his arm from the unwavering grip of the guard.  But except for the split lip, his face was unmarked.  Closing his eyes, Folken slowly exhaled and then drew in a deep, painful breath.  Without another glance in the mirror, he finished undressing.

            Clad in a clean pair of trousers, Folken pulled on a robe and tied it loosely around his waist.  Picking up the damp drying cloth from the bed, he added it to the pile of dirty clothes on the washroom floor.  As he went out into the front room, he ran his fingers through his damp hair and winced at the pain in his shoulder when he raised his arm.

            Bathing had been an ordeal in itself.  The hot water had burned like a fire on his bruised and lacerated skin; and he had quickly discovered that the use of soap could wait until another day.  But after soaking for a while, the pain seemed to have eased a bit, and Folken had let his body relax until he was lightly dozing in the cooling water.  The bath had gone quite cold by the time he woke up – shivering slightly as he emerged from the tub.

            Going to the sideboard, he poured himself a small glass of wine and was about to sit down when someone pounded on his door.  "Lacour – c'mon, open up!  Folken?"

            Puzzled, Folken thought that he recognized the voice.  Unbolting the look, he opened the door and found a dark-haired man raising his fist to pound again.  "Marco?"  Folken didn't want to see anyone and he tried to show his annoyance at the other man's intrusion.  "What do you want Dimetra?"

            "Folken!  Where in the nine hells have you been?  Juri and I have been looking all over for you since last night."  Looking at the man opposite him, Marco's eyes widened as he glimpsed Folken's bare and bruised chest through the loosely belted robe.  "Gods above and below . . . what the hell happened to you?"

            "Nothing . . . it's nothing."  Angrily, Folken pulled his robe closed.  "Look Marco, I'm really not in the mood for . . ."

            The dark-haired man cut him off, "Don't you know?  I can't believe you haven't heard about it yet!"

            Folken arched an eyebrow as he gave Marco a puzzled look.  "Heard about what?"

            Marco looked at him in disbelief.  "The 'melef prototypes – there was some kind of accident, an explosion.  I can't believe you haven't heard about – it's all over the tower!   Juri wants to see us right away – he's in his quarters waiting; so c'mon and finishing dressing so we can go."

            Folken held the door open and the other man followed him in.  "What kind of accident?  What happened?"  Turning the pale-haired apprentice went to the wardrobe and pulled out a clean shirt.  Untying his robe, he lit it fall to the floor and gingerly put the shirt on.

            "I – I don't know all of it.  Be sure to bring your copies of the plans."  Folken heard Marco's sharp intake of break at the sight of his back.  "Good gods Folken!  How did . . ."

            Trying to divert the other man's attention away from his injuries, Folken interrupted him.  "What kind of accident, Marco?"

            Slowly wrenching his dark eyes away from the sight of his companion's battered body, Marco stammered.  "Uh . . . uh . . . some kind of, uh – some kind of weapons accident; we don't know if it was some kind of miscue with the pilots or a mechanical problem.  When we couldn't find you last night, Garufo went up to the training center to get a first-hand look.  He should be back here tonight or first thing in the morning.  Hopefully he'll have what's left of the 'melefs with him."

            Finishing with the buttons on his shirt, Folken turned around.  "There was more than one?"  Marco nodded his head and opened his mouth as if to speak; but then he seemed to reconsider.

            "What else?"  Folken tried to read the expression on the other man's face.  Marco looked down at the floor and Folken could see him bite down on his bottom lip.  "What else, Marco?  What don't you want to tell me?"  The younger man's voice was quite firm.

            Still worrying his lip, the dark-haired man looked up.  "There's going to be an investigation by – by the military.  Two . . . two of the pilots were injured, and – and one of them died.  The other one might make it, but I dunno . . . it'll be a miracle if he does."  Marco saw Folken's eyes widen as he spoke.  "But they're trying to say it was our fault Folken – that it was a problem with the design.  Damn the military . . . they want the technology and the weapons, but they blame up whenever they screw up."

            Folken could see the anger in Marco's eyes as he finished speaking.  He also had a nagging feeling that there was a lot more to the story then the other man was telling him, but he let it go for now.  "Gods . . ." Folken breathed as he went into the bedroom.  "Just let me put my boots on . . . my copies of the plans are on the worktable.  Can you grab them for me?  I'll be right out."

            Marco went to the scarred wooden table and reached for the rolled sheets lying on top.  Looking up at the wall, he noticed a framed painting hanging there.  It was positioned in such a way that if Folken were sitting at the table, he would see it as soon as he looked up.  Turning around to look at the rest of the front room, Marco noticed that there were no other pictures, personal mementos, or even knick knacks to be seen.  _Weird . . . so why this one picture?  What's so special about it?_

            Moving closer, the dark-haired man studied it.  _The ocean . . . I bet its Palas . . . hmmmm, its pretty good – watercolor by the look of it.  I wonder where he got it.  He noticed small letters in the lower right-hand corner.  Looking closer, he saw initials or possibly what could have been a name; __J-I-N . . . Jin?_

            Folken came back out and saw Marco looking at Jindra's drawing, "I'm ready, let's go."

            Marco turned towards him and gestured with his thumb, "Nice work – where'd you get it?"

            Folken felt a sudden pang of jealousy and his manner was rather curt.  "Just something I picked up – it caught me eye."  Moving towards the door, he opened it.  "We better go, Juri is waiting."  Holding the door, he let Marco pass and then Folken shut the door behind himself.  


	26. Chapter TwentySix

TWENTY-SIX  
  


  


Jindra rolled over on her side and opened her eyes. Blinking, she felt a little disoriented. Where . . .? Focusing, she looked around and realized that she was in her bedroom. How . . .? Thinking, she remembered coming home and finding her parents in the parlor and then . . . Coren. Oh gods, Coren. With a small cry, she buried her face in the pillow and cried. It was a long time before Jindra's tears exhausted themselves and then she fell back into a fitful sleep.  
  
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Doreena Roh had awakened alone, her husband's side of the bed undisturbed. Pulling on her robe, she had gone looking for him. Stopping at her daughter's room, she quietly opened the door and glanced in. Jindra was turned away from the door, laying on her side. Stepping into the room a little, Doreena could see that she was alone. She was about to close the door, when she thought she heard Jindra cry out. Walking around to the other side of the bed, she looked at her daughter. Although she was sleeping, Doreena could see the wetness that glistened on Jindra's face. Reaching out, she brushed the hair from Jindra's face and watched her as she slept.   
  
Doreena found herself remembering another time, before Jindra had been born. She and Erich had been married for a year when their son had been born. The baby had come too early and the midwife had merely shaken her head and then sadly placed the small, wrapped bundle in Doreena's outstretched arms. Erich was kneeling on the floor by her side as she held their son and his tears had flowed just as heavily as hers had. Holding out his arms, Erich had taken the baby and kissed it on the forehead. "Jon. It was my father's name. Jon Vardas Roh, my -- my -- son." Together, she and Erich had buried their first born son three days later.  
  
Doreena quickly became pregnant again. Erich had been happy, but he had also constantly worried that something would go wrong. He had Simon come every week to see her and he took a leave of absence from his post at the Trade Office. At first Doreena had loved all the attention and pampering from her husband; but after a few months, she found herself wishing that he would leave her alone and go back to work. Her already fiery temper became even shorter and the two were constantly arguing. Doreena had even seriously considered leaving Erich and going back to Palas. It was about that time that her father had come to visit.  
  
Yellan Vardas didn't care much for the Zaibach Empire. What he did care about was profit. So if he had to deal with one to get the other, well he would do it; but he wouldn't like it. The fact that his favorite daughter had fallen in love with and married a man from Zaibach, still didn't sit very well. He couldn't say that he disliked Erich Roh, the man seemed honorable and he certainly worshiped Doreena; but he was Zaibach, one of "them." There were many other men, good Asturian men, that he would have much preferred to have as a son-in-law. But he never could say no to Reena. Oh, he had tried; yes indeed, he had tried.   
  
The treaty between Asturia and Zaibach had just been signed and the two countries were just starting to openly trade goods and technology when Erich Roh had introduced himself to Doreena Vardas at a reception held to welcome the Zaibach trade representatives. The Empire had always been a faceless "unknown" to most of the citizens of Asturia. A country ruled by a seemingly, undying emperor that possessed technology far beyond that of any other, Zaibach also possessed a military force great enough to rival that of several combined nations. An isolationist state, the Empire had kept to itself for so long, that when it's representatives first presented themselves to the newly crowned king of Asturia, rumors spread to every neighboring country that Zaibach had invaded Palas. Moving quickly to stifle the rumors and to calm his own people, King Astin had signed the treaty making Asturia and Zaibach allies. The treaty had opened the borders of commerce and trade between the two countries and made merchants like Yellan Vardas very happy and wealthy men.  
  
When Erich Roh had come to Vardas and asked for the hand of his daughter in marriage, the merchant had outright refused. Trading with Zaibach was one thing, but letting them marry into your family was quite another. But Erich was not one to give up so easily. The man called on Yellan every night at precisely eight o'clock for three weeks and each time he asked the same thing, for Doreena's hand; and each night, his answer was still the same. 

But Yellan also had Doreena to contend with. All day long, for those same three weeks, she badgered her father. Never giving him a moment's peace, she even followed him to his office near the shipyard when he tried to get away. From breakfast until bedtime, she never let up; except when Erich was there to see him. Then she would quietly wait in the hall until Erich left and then she would start again. Yellan had threatened to send her away or have Erich Roh arrested for trespassing if the two of them did not leave him alone. But that only made Doreena angrier and more determined. That final night after Erich had left her father, she had stormed into his study and raged like a woman possessed. She had cried, she had begged and finally she had threatened to run away and elope. Fed up with his daughter's antics, Yellan had told her to go. "Run off to Zaibach with him then. I don't care. But once you leave here Reena, don't come back. Once the door to this house closes behind you, it's closed for good."   
  
Crying, Yellan opened the door to his study. "I just hope you're happy, Doreena. That's all I ever wanted for you . . . for any of my children . . . was just for you to be happy."

Doreena looked at her father and she could feel her heart breaking; she could see how much she had hurt him. She went to Yellan and embraced him. "Please father, I don't want to leave like this. I don't want to run away. I want to be married with you by my side. I love you . . . you grouchy old man. But I love Erich, too. If you want me to be happy, then say yes. Let me marry him . . . that's what will make me happy. "   


Yellan kissed the top of Doreena's head and hugged her. "He's not good enough for you, Reena. I don't know if there's a man alive who is. Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure he's the one you want?"  
  
"Oh yes! He's the only one. I don't know how I'll like living in Zaibach . . . it's so far away, but I know that I can't live without him, father. I love him too much. Please . . . say yes."  
  
Sighing, Yellan shook his head. "I never could say no to you. I've spoiled you so bad, it's a wonder any man would want to marry you. But you've always been my favorite . . . you're just like your mother. Gods, how I loved that woman. How she put up with me for all those years, I'll never know."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, your grandfather didn't like me either. It took me six months before he gave me his consent." Smiling to himself, Yellan stood back from his daughter and looked at her tear-streaked face. "Have him come around tomorrow . . . before dinner, and I'll see him then."  
  
Doreena couldn't stop the smile that had spread across her face. "Oh father! Do you really mean it?" Vardas nodded his head. Doreena was crying again and her tears wet the front of her father's jacket as she hugged him. "Just think father, you'll have a son-in-law in the Zaibach trade office. Just imagine the look on old Niko Fassa's face when he finds out."  
  
"Reena!" Yellan laughed. "I guess you are your father's daughter after all, aren't you?"  
  
A year and a half later, after much bureaucratic red-tape, Doreena Vardas and Erich Roh were married in her father's house in Palas. The wedding was large and quite elaborate; even by Vardas standards. Then two weeks after that, the couple had quietly stood before a civil registrar of the Zaibach Empire and after signing their names, were declared man and wife.  
  
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Doreena knew that her father could feel the tension in the house and see that she and Erich were unhappy. Vardas didn't say anything to her directly about his observations, but he had a pretty good idea of what was wrong. He had nine living children of his own after all. He had gone through very similar feelings when his wife had her first miscarriage. Kerrina had been a headstrong, stubborn woman and there wasn't a day that went by that Vardas didn't thank the gods for bringing her into his life. Yellan had loved his wife very deeply and he never completely recovered from her death. He didn't want to intrude on his daughter's marriage, but he hated seeing her unhappy, especially at a time when she should be joyful and looking towards the future. So about a week after arriving, he had walked with Erich out into the garden one afternoon for about an hour or so. What her father had said to Erich, Doreena never found out. But her husband had returned to work a few days later and though he still doted on her, he wasn't as smothering as before.   


Doreena's pregnancy proceeded normally and after a rather lengthy labor, Coren Jon Roh had been born. Erich sat next to his wife on the bed, beaming with pride as he held his new son. Doreena felt the tears in her eyes as she watched him with the baby. Looking at her, Erich gave her a wide smile and then leaned over and kissed her sweat drenched forehead. "I think I love you even more than the day I married you." Still cradling the baby in one arm, Erich had reached his other arm around his wife and Doreena laid her head on his shoulder.   


It was almost three more years before Doreena became pregnant again. Everything seemed normal until her seventh month, when she began bleeding and experiencing a great deal of pain. Simon confined her to bed rest and made sure that there was someone with her at all times just in case she went into an early labor. After a few weeks, she seemed to be doing much better and it appeared that everything would be alright. But Simon still insisted that she rest as much as possible and Erich made sure that she followed his instruction to the letter. It was the middle of a chilly, late autumn night when she went into labor. Jindra Kerrina Roh was born twelve hours later. Erich was beside himself with joy as he held his newborn daughter for the first time and Doreena could see the tears in his eyes. "She's beautiful, Reena. So perfect . . . so beautiful . . . just like her mother." Coren however, was not so easily won over, "Can't we get another one? I wanted a brother." Erich had laughed, "Maybe next time." But Doreena and Erich had no more children.  


Doreena felt the tears welling in her eyes as she looked down at Jindra's sad sleeping face. You're all I have now. She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. But you're going to leave me too, aren't you? Swallowing back tears, Doreena Roh left her daughter's room and continued her search for her missing husband.  
  
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Jindra awoke again a couple of hours later. The sunlight streamed through the open drapes and she could faintly hear birds outside her window. She hated it. How could the day be so beautiful when her brother was dead. She hated the birds, she hated the sun; but most of all she hated the world. She hated the world for going on after taking Coren away from her. Turning over, she could feel the tears slide down her face once again.   
  
Jindra was curled up in a chair by the window, staring at nothing when there was a faint knock on the door. The maid had come in earlier with a breakfast tray, but Jindra had left it untouched on the table. Pulling the blanket tighter around herself, she rested her head on the arm of the chair and continued staring out the window. The knock sounded again, but she ignored it. After a few moments, the door opened and Doreena looked in.   
  
Seeing the empty bed, she stepped into the room. "Jindra?" Walking around the side of the bed, she saw her daughter sitting by the window. "Jindra?" Going over to the window, she reached out and touched Jindra's arm..   
  
Jindra continued to stare out the window, "I'm not asleep." Her voice was flat, emotionless.  
  
"You didn't eat anything."  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"You have to eat something,"  
  
"I said I'm not hungry, mother." There was an edge in Jindra's voice.  
  
Doreena slowly exhaled and looking around, reached for the small chair in front of the vanity table. She set it across from her daughter and sat down. Jindra made no notice of the movement, her eyes still focused on something outside the window.  
  
"Where is he? I want to see him." Jindra finally looked away from the window and her eyes were cold and dark.  
  
"He's -- he's still up north. They're sending his -- him back today. He should be home tomorrow." Doreena swallowed back tears.  
  
"How did it happen? When?"  
  
"It -- it was during training exercises. We -- we found out yesterday afternoon. They think it was a problem with the weapons or some kind of mis-communication between the pilots. There was another guymelef involved . . . another boy . . ." Doreena trailed off. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a handkerchief. "Apparently there was . . . an explosion. Coren -- Coren was . . . when it . . . when it . . . the impact from the explosion . . ." Doreena wiped her eyes. "They promised that there would be an investigation. Major Forbes was just as concerned and he wants to know what happened too."   
  
"Major Forbes?"  
  
"He was the man with Commandant Varada last night."  
  
Jindra snorted, "An investigation? What good will that do? They just want to have someone to blame it on and it won't matter anyway, because Coren will still be dead!" She started to cry again.  
  
Doreena squeezed her eyes shut and suppressed a sob of her own. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and put her hand on Jindra's arm. "There's nothing that can bring Coren back . . . but at least we'll know what happened, we'll know the truth."  
  
Jindra was quiet and her gaze returned to the window. Mother and daughter sat in silence for several minutes when there was a knock on the door. "Yes, " Doreena called out. The door opened admitting the maid. "Excuse me ma'am, Dr. Kaberle is here."  
  
"Show him in please." The girl stood aside and Simon came through the door. Doreena rose to meet him and he embraced her and kissed her cheek. The maid followed and picked up the undisturbed food tray, clucking her tongue as she did so. Simon noticed and gave Doreena a questioning look. She shook her head and turned back towards her daughter.  
  
Simon knelt down in front of Jindra. She was curled up in a chair with a blanket wrapped around herself. Her hair was a tangled mess and she appeared to be wearing the same mud-spattered clothes from last night.  
  
"How are you doing today Jindra?"  
  
She didn't look at him. "How do you think I am? My brother is dead . . . I'm doing just great."  
  
Doreena was horrified, "Jindra!" Simon held up a hand and shook his head at his friend's wife. "I promised your father that I'd look in on you this morning."  


"Well you've seen me, so I guess you can go now."  
  
Simon put his hand on Doreena's arm, knowing that she was about to lose her temper. "Jindra, I know that you're hurt and that you're angry, but we only want to help you. We care about you . . . "  
  
Jindra felt tears in her eyes once again and her voice was hoarse, "If you really care about me, then you'll leave me alone. That's all I want . . . to be left alone." Doreena felt something within her break at the sadness and pain in her daughter's voice. "Jindra -- dear, don't close yourself off from us. This is difficult for all of us . . . this is when we need each other the most."  
  
Jindra looked up at her mother, "I -- I -- need you too. But -- but I just have to be alone right now." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "I -- I just wish that this was all some horrible nightmare and any minute now I'd wake up." Unable to suppress her sorrow any more, she let out a sob. "Why? What did we ever do? What did Coren ever do to deserve this? Why are we being punished?" Jindra buried her face in hands and sobbed.  
  
Doreena couldn't hold back any longer and with a sob of her own, she knelt down and embraced her daughter. "Don't Jindra. Don't blame yourself for this, it was an accident." Pulling back, she held Jindra by the shoulders and looked at Simon. "Can you give her something, Simon? Something to calm her down a little?"  


Jindra pulled away from her mother, "No! I don't want anymore drugs. I just want to be alone for awhile. Just don't put me to sleep again . . . please don't."  
  
Simon gently touched her shoulder, "Only if you promise that you'll eat something." Jindra vigorously shook her head. Rising, he turned towards Doreena. "Could you leave us alone for a few minutes, Doreena?" Simon could see that she was debating within herself. "Please, I'd like to talk to Jindra. It'll be alright."  
  
With a concerned look, Doreena nodded her head and then gave Jindra a quick peck on the cheek. With a final backward glance, she left the room; closing the door behind her.  
  
Simon sat down on Doreena's vacated chair. Reaching over, he gave Jindra's arm a gentle squeeze. "Your father is like a brother to me. Losing Coren is like losing a member of my own family. I only want to help you, Jindra. But you can't let this anger eat away at you, you can't keep it bottled up inside. What you're feeling is perfectly natural, but your mother is right. None of this is your fault -- or Coren's. As far as we know, what happened was an accident. Until someone says otherwise."  
  
Jindra looked up at him. "But it's not fair. Why my brother? Coren never did anything to anyone in his whole life. Everyone liked him . . . he had so many friends . . . he had his whole life ahead of him . . . and now . . . now . . ." Sniffing back her tears, she trailed off.  
  
Simon's voice was soft, "No it's not fair, but sometimes things happen for reasons we don't understand." He took her hand, "But he have him in our hearts and memories . . . he'll never be forgotten . . . we won't stop loving him just because he's gone." Thinking of Erich, Simon felt his own eyes well up. "Your father is going to need you Jindra . . . you and your mother. He's not as strong as he wants you to think he his, believe me. This is weighing very heavily on him. Will you promise me that you'll keep an eye on him for me?"  
  
Jindra squeezed his hand and nodded her head. "I dreamed that my father was in my room last night. He was holding my hand and he told me that he loved me."  
  
Simon gave her a small smile. "He does, Jindra . . . you were always his favorite." Letting go of her hand, he stood. "I'm counting on your to keep your promise. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask. If my wife and I can do it, then we will. Martina and Gillian are besides themselves with grief. I know they want to come and see you; but only when you're ready. I'll stop by tomorrow and see you, if that's alright?"  
  
Jindra felt a bit ashamed of her earlier behavior and her voice was small. "Yes . . . and, thank you." Simon gave her one last look and then he turned towards the door.  
  
As the door clicked shut, Jindra's gaze once more turned to the window and shifting a bit in the chair, she pulled the blanket closer as she felt a sudden chill. Folken, where are you? I need you . . . I need you to hold me. I need you to make me feel warm again.  
  
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Little note: I gave Dryden a grandfather, Niko Fassa. I don't know if he had one or not, but he does now! :)   
  
  



	27. Chapter TwentySeven

TWENTY-SEVEN  
  


Folken let out a long sigh and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He had been working with Marco and Juri for the past few hours, pouring over the guymelef plans. As they compared their individual notes and drawings, it was Juri who finally called a halt, "This isn't doing a bit of good. We need to see the 'melefs." Frustrated, the man smacked his fist on the tabletop, "Damn! I wish Garufo would get back here."  
  
Folken had not been able to get any more information out of Juri regarding the accident. The older man claimed not to know anymore than what Marco had said earlier; but Folken sensed that there was still something that the two men were holding back. Reaching for the glass on the table to the left him, he winced a little at the pain in his shoulder and back as he stretched out his arm. Taking a long swallow, he watched Juri and Marco through half-lidded eyes as they spoke quietly on the other side of the table. It must be more serious than they said. I wonder why they won't tell me? Setting down the empty glass, Folken considered confronting the two men once again about what they knew. Just as he was about to speak, there was a knock on the door.   
  
"Now what?" Juri growled as he turned to open the door. "What do you want?" The tone of his voice was harsh and the dog-man servant jumped a little before he replied. "Ex -- excuse m-m-me, s-s-ir. Th--this message j-j-just arrived for you." The servant held out an envelope, his eyes downcast. Juri snatched the paper away and slammed the door shut in the man's face.

Looking at the wax seal on the back of the envelope, Juri turned it over and exclaimed as he saw the handwriting. "It's from Garufo!" Tearing open the envelope, he quickly unfolded the papers within and scanned the top sheet. Juri looked puzzled for a moment and then quickly scanned through the remaining pages. Looking up, he saw that Folken and Marco were watching him.  
  
"Garufo will be back tonight, with the wreckage from both guymelefs," he said coming back to the table. "You won't believe this," he held out several sheets from the stack, "but this is a copy of the preliminary field report from the military's investigation." Juri let out a small laugh. "I'd like to know how he pulled that off."  
  
Marco came to stand beside him. "What does it say? Are they blaming us?"  
  
"According to Garufo, it's inconclusive so far. But he wanted each of us to read it and see what we think."  
  
Marco looked puzzled, "What does that mean? Inconclusive?"  
  
Juri looked at him as if he were stupid, "It means that they don't know what happened. There isn't enough evidence one way or the other."  
  
"Yet." Folken had risen from his seat and walked towards the other two men. Standing next to Marco, he looked Juri in the eye. "What's going on, Juri? No, don't lie to me anymore. Why is this so important? Any other time and you wouldn't care; you'd just write it off as an unfortunate accident and that would be the end of it. So, what is it?"  
  
Standing next to Folken, Marco looked at Juri and then dropped his eyes. Juri gave Folken a long measured looked before he spoke. "One of the pilots, the one that died, was the son of some government big wig. That's why the military has taken such an interest . . . and why we must too. This man could cause trouble for us -- for the tower -- if it turns out that we were responsible."  
  
Folken gave Juri a skeptical look, "The emperor controls the tower . . . and the government too. How can one bureaucrat cause trouble for us when we have Dornkirk's protection?"  
  
"You're young Folken, and you haven't been here long enough to begin to understand the intricacies of our government. Yes the emperor does have dominion over the Empire, but his hold on the government itself is not as strong as it once was." Juri waved his hand towards the table, "Why don't we sit down and I will try to explain some of this to you."  
  
The three men moved to the table. "I don't know how versed you are on our history, but I'll try to be as brief and to the point as I can." Juri took a quick sip of wine and then cleared his throat. "Before Emperor Dornkirk came, Zaibach didn't exist. We were a people trying to scratch out a living in a hostile land . . . fighting amongst ourselves . . . fighting off invasions from other countries . . . it was a place of anarchy. But Dornkirk changed that. He brought with him order . . . laws . . . hope. No one is sure where he came from . . . I've heard stories that he came from the Mystic Moon; but of course that's impossible. But he brought knowledge . . . knowledge of things that no other country on Gaea had. That knowledge gave him power and he used it to unite the people of this land; and thus, the Zaibach Empire was born."  
  
"In time, this great city arose and the emperor turned his attention towards making Zaibach a force to be reckoned with on Gaea. He began instructing others in the sciences that he brought with him, calling these men sorcerers, an ancient word for those that practiced so-called magic. The government that Dornkirk had set up to rule seemed to do well without his daily supervision, so he turned his attention to the sorcerers and the teaching of science. Years passed and the bureaucrats became entrenched, and the emperor . . . the emperor aged, but he did not die. He used his knowledge to prolong his life and he became more removed from the governing of the Empire and became consumed with the study of destiny and fate."  
  
"As Dornkirk's hold on the government lessened, the bureaucrats gained more power. There are . . . there are some among the governing bureaucrats that think that the emperor has ruled too long. They believe that they should have complete control over the affairs of the Empire . . . including the sorcerer's tower. The military is an extension of the governing body, Folken. They want nothing more than to discredit us, despite the fact that without our science and technology, they would not be the force that they are today. If the dissenters in the government can discredit the tower enough, they may be able to depose Emperor Dornkirk and seize complete control of the Empire for themselves. I don't know if this man, whose son died, is one of those who want to overthrow the emperor; but we can't take the chance. Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Folken?"  
  
Folken was still trying to absorb all that Juri had said, "I -- I --I'm not sure." He shook his head.  
  
"The very existence of the tower . . . no of the empire itself, may just rest on the outcome of this investigation. If the military can prove that we were at fault, then they can further discredit our work and give the bureaucrats more leverage against the emperor. That's why this is so important."  
  
Folken gave Juri a wide-eyed look. "You're talking about a military coup?"  
  
The older man took a deep breath, "It's possible. I'm only telling you this because . . . because of your connection with the emperor. As his apprentice, you should be more aware of the -- the situation . . . the state of the Empire, so to speak." Looking at Folken for several moments, Juri's voice was low and cold when he spoke again. "What I've just told you is to be kept in the strictest confidence, Folken. You have taken the oath of the tower and I will hold you to it. You will not speak of this again -- to anyone, sorcerer or no."  
  
Folken swallowed hard, "On my oath, Juri."  
  
The older man nodded his head. "Since we really can't do anything until Garufo returns, I suggest that we break until he arrives. Stay in your quarters if possible and I will send for you." Taking up the pile of papers, he handed one to Marco and then another to Folken. "These are the copies of the preliminary report. Take it with you and we'll discuss it when we meet again." Marco and Folken nodded.  
  
Rising from the table, the two younger men gathered their belongings and quickly hurried out the door to their own rooms.  
  
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Dropping the rolled plans and the report on his worktable, Folken felt a great weariness wash over him. Gods, I could just drop right here. Rubbing the fingers of his left hand over his eyes, he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. Glancing at the table, he knew that he should read the report that Garufo had sent, but he doubted that he could keep his eyes open any longer. Just a quick nap . . . I can read it afterwards.   


Going into his bedroom, he sat down to remove his boots. He winced and gritted his teeth against the pain in his back and shoulders as he bent down and pulled them off. He thought about taking a painkiller, he still had a few left that they sorcerers had given him when he had first come to Zaibach. He shook his head. No, if I take that I'll be out for the rest of the day and night. Gasping in pain, Folken gingerly laid down on the bed. His back screamed out in protest as he put his weight on it. Damn! Turning on his left side he tried to get comfortable but to no avail. Pulling himself up, he let out a curse. I'm never going to be able to sleep like this. With a frustrated sigh, he got up from the bed and with a quick thought grabbed the blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed. Going back into the front room, he gently sat down in one of the old wingback side chairs and pulled the blanket around himself. Not too comfy, but at least it doesn't hurt as much. Closing his eyes, he fell quickly asleep.  
  
Folken was awakened by a pounding on his door. He was startled out of an unsettling dream in which he was wandering in a mist-shrouded land as Jindra's sad voice called out to him. He awoke to find his heart racing and his breathing heavy. As the pounding came again on the door, Folken shook his head to try to clear away the lingering gloom of the dream. Slowly rising from his chair, he chanced a quick look at the small clock on the table as he made his way to the door. Gods! I didn't mean to sleep so long.   


Opening the door, he came face to face with one of the dog-man servants. Dropping his eyes, the man gave a small bow. "Pardon me, my Lord Folken. Master Juri has asked that you join him in his chambers immediately." The servant bowed again and without waiting for a reply, he turned and started back down the hall.  
  
Folken closed the door and ran a quick hand through his hair. Great! I haven't read the report and I probably look like I just rolled out of bed. With a sigh, he went into his bedroom and retrieved his boots. Gathering up his things from the worktable, Folken pulled the report out. I can read it on the way. Closing the door behind him, he started towards Juri's quarters.  
  
Folken haltingly read as he walked, trying not to collide with the other people passing through the halls. He had reached Juri's door and was knocking when Marco came up behind him. "Little nap, huh?" Folken turned around and gave the dark-haired man a wry look. "Did you read this yet?" He held up the report copy.  
  
"Uh -- uh -- actually . . . I was going to -- but -- I kind of got off track," Marco replied sheepishly and looked down. "I was going to read it on my way here, but . . ." Whatever Marco was going to say was lost as the door opened and Juri quickly ushered them inside.  
  
"Garufo should be here any minute. He's supervising the unloading of the wrecks. We thought it would be best to meet here first and then go out to the storage hangar." Seeing the report in Folken's hand, he gestured towards it. "Did you get a chance to read it?" Folken felt the color rise in his face and he looked down quickly, hoping that the other man didn't notice. "Uh, yes. It's very basic, but I'm sure that will change as they continue their investigation." Folken put his things down on the table and was just sitting down when the door banged open and Garufo entered.  
  
"Everyone here? Yes -- good -- good. Damn, but I was never so happy to get back here in my whole life. " Seeing Folken seated at the table, Garufo stepped towards him and slapped him on the back. "Well, it looks like the wandering apprentice has reappeared." His voice held a mocking tone and he gave Folken a smug look. Folken could feel tears well in his eyes from the pain and he blinked his eyes several times to hold them back.  
  
Turning back towards the others, Garufo continued. "I had a hell of a time getting those wrecks away from the military . . . they seemed rather reluctant to give them up for some reason. But we've got them now and that's all that matters."  
  
Juri took a seat and indicated that the others should also. After everyone was seated he looked at Garufo. "Anything new since your message?"  
  
"Not really." He thought for a moment, "Oh yes, there was something. The second pilot died this morning."  
  
Juri swore under his breath and his eyes grew dark. "Damn! That's all we needed. So was this one of importance too?"  
  
Garufo waved his hand, "He was a nobody. The son of some minor land owner from the west. No one to worry about."   
  
Folken bit his lip. How can they be so callous? A nobody? The poor man is dead and they act like it's nothing. He glanced at Marco, hoping to see some sign of outrage, but the dark-haired man was silently shaking his head in agreement with Garufo. Folken's measure of Marco dropped several degrees and he found himself wondering if he too would end up as unfeeling and cold as the men seated around the table with him.   
  
Almost without thinking, Folken spoke. "Who were they? I mean their names. What were the pilot's names?"  
  
"Why?" Garufo shrugged his shoulders.  


"Call it morbid curiosity . . . I'd like to know."  
  
Juri gave him a puzzled look, "Who cares? It's not important. All that matters is what they did and if they are responsible for what happened."  
  
Folken felt the anger growing within. himself. "Who cares? These men were the sons of someone . . . they were soldiers of the Zaibach Empire. I'm sure their families are . . ."  
  
Juri let out an exasperated sound. "Folken! Enough! That is none of your concern. All you should be concerned with is whether or not the tower can be connected with what happened. Who grieves or does not grieve for those men is of no importance to us. Enough . . . I will hear no more from you."  
  
Folken clenched his jaw and gave Juri a hard stare, but said nothing. Looking from Folken to Juri, Garufo cleared his throat, "If you two are finished . . . I think we should continue down in the hangar. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can find the answers that we need."  
  
As the men stood and gathered up their things, Marco came to Folken's side. "What are you doing Folken? Are you a complete fool? Juri Selanne is not someone that you want as an enemy," his voice was a whisper. "If you want my advice, you'll just leave it."  


Folken gave Marco a cold look. "Well it's a good thing I don't want your advice then, isn't it Marco." Without another word, Folken stepped around the other man and followed Juri and Garufo out the door.  
  
Marco watched Folken's back as he walked away. Leave it alone Folken. Trust me, you're not going to like what you find. Picking up his design plans, Marco walked out the door closing it behind himself.  
  



	28. Chapter TwentyEight

TWENTY-EIGHT  
  


Folken felt as if his lungs would burst. The pain in his chest was almost unbearable as ran. Gods . . . Coren . . . Marco and Juri -- damn them to the nine hells -- they knew it all along. They knew it! Gasping for air, he felt a stitch in his side as he ran. Clutching his side, he winced as his fingers dug into bruised flesh. C'mon Folken . . . you're half way there.  
  
He had fled the hangar at a dead run, not even stopping for the guard at the tower gate. As the man had yelled for him to halt and tried to block his way, Folken had merely barreled into him and knocked him aside. He didn't even feel the pain from the impact. The only thing that mattered to him, the only thought in his mind was Jindra. He knew that she would be utterly devastated and he wanted to be there to hold her and comfort her. That dream . . . she was calling to me . . . I could feel her sorrow. Folken felt the tears welling in his eyes again. Heedless of the crowded sidewalks, he ran on.  


  


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Anton Lefebvre sat on the bed in his quarters, holding his head in his hands. Like many other cadets at the academy, he had been stunned by the news of Coren Roh's death. A profound sense of grief and loss had settled over the entire campus. Coren had been very popular and had many friends, both among the students and the faculty. Commandant Varada himself had almost broken down as the announcement had been made. Seeing tears in the eyes of more than one cadet, Anton had swallowed his masculine pride and allowed himself to cry as he retreated to the solace of his room.   
  
Coren . . . Coren, my friend . . . it wasn't supposed to be like this . . . I didn't know . . . Anton choked back a sob . . . what have I done? This isn't what I wanted . . . I've damned myself for eternity . . . it wasn't supposed to be this way . . . His voice was hoarse as he cried out, "Gods, what have I done?"  


  
  


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As Folken stumbled up to the front door of Jindra's house, he paused and tried to catch his breath. The stitch in his side had not faded and he felt a bit lightheaded. Leaning against the cool brick wall, he closed his eyes and gulped in air. Wincing at every breath, he could feel his heart racing and perspiration dripping down his face. After several minutes, he straightened up and quickly wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Folken ran a quick hand through his hair and smoothed and straightened his clothes as best he could. He noticed that the front doorway had been draped in black and the curtains in the windows had been drawn closed. Taking one last deep breath, Folken raised his hand and banged the brass door knocker.  


  


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Doreena Roh was sitting in the front parlor with Petra Kaberle when they were interrupted by the footman, "Excuse me, madam. But there's a gentleman here, he -- he wants to see Miss Jindra."  
  
"My daughter isn't receiving visitors."  
  
The man nodded, "Yes ma'am. I tried to tell him that, but -- but -- he's quite insistent."  
  
"Who is he? Did he give his name?" Doreena had a sinking feeling that she knew who the man was.   


The footman nodded, "Yes ma'am. He's the gentleman that called on Miss Jindra before, Master Lacour."  


Doreena sighed and rubbed her eyes with her fingers. "Please tell him that Miss Roh is not well enough to see anyone at this time . . . that our family is not receiving anyone right now."  
"Yes, ma'am." The man bowed and quietly left.  
  
Petra Kaberle looked at her friend, "You look upset Doreena. Who is he?"  
  
Doreena shook her head, "Trouble, that's who he is."  
  
The other woman's eyes went wide. "Is he dangerous? Do you want me to send for Simon?"  
  
Doreena reached out her hand and touched Petra's arm. "No, he's not dangerous . . . at least not in the way that you mean. But I just wish he had not come here."  
  
"Who is he?"  


"A man that my daughter fancies she's in love with."  
  
"But maybe he should see Jindra then. She's been sitting up there alone . . . not speaking . . . as if she were in some kind of trance. Perhaps he can help."  
  
"No! I don't want him in my house. Jindra needs her family right now, not that -- that -- " Doreena's voice was cold with anger and she broke off speaking. Petra drew back from her friend a little.   


The two were interrupted when the door opened once again. "Madam, I tried to stop him --" The footman was pushed out of the way and Folken stepped into the room. "Jin?" Folken quickly looked around the small parlor and saw Doreena Roh sitting with a small blond woman.   
  
"Madam, I'll send for the constable . . ." the footman said as he retreated from the room.   
  
Doreena was on her feet in an instant. "How dare you? Have you no sense of propriety at all? Can't you see that our house is in mourning?"  
  
Petra stood and clutched Doreena's arm as she looked at the tall, pale-haired man. Taking in Folken's wind-blown hair, his overly-bright eyes, his split lip and labored breathing, she thought that he looked a bit wild and yes, perhaps even dangerous.   
  
Folken swallowed and stepped towards the two women. "Yes ma'am, I know. I came as soon as I heard. Believe me, my heart goes out to you and your husband. Coren was a good friend to me and I feel his loss no less than you." His voice shook with grief and he quickly swallowed again. "But please, I came to see Jin. I can only guess how she must be feeling right now. I know that she's hurting . . . I can feel it in my heart. Please, let me see her."  
  
Doreena squeezed her eyes shut as Folken finished speaking. With a weary sigh, she looked at him. "My daughter doesn't want to see anyone right now . . . she doesn't even want to see me. Her grief is too deep . . ." Doreena took a breath, "This is not a good time. If you have any respect for my family at all, you'll leave - please just leave us alone!"  
  
Folken shook his head, "No! I can't . . . I can't walk out of here knowing that Jin needs me . . . I know that she does, I can feel it. I can feel her pain calling out to me." Folken felt tears in his eyes and he tried to blink them away. "Please Madam Roh . . . I know how you feel about me . . . I know how much you despise me, but think of Jindra. You know how much I love her . . . please, please let me see her."  
  
Doreena felt tears in her own eyes as Folken pleaded with her; but she also felt her angry growing as well. "Why? Why can't you leave my family in peace?" Folken opened his mouth, but Doreena continued on before he had a chance to speak. "Why do you insist on ruining my daughter's life? Don't you understand? I don't want you in my house . . . I don't want your sympathy. All I want is for you to leave us alone!"  
  
Petra Kaberle was startled by the venomous tone in Doreena's voice and she began to feel afraid. Putting her arm around Doreena's shoulders, she looked at Folken. "Please sir. Can't you see that Madam Roh is distraught with grief. Have you no feelings at all? Please go . . . Collins has gone for the constable. Do you want to be dragged out of here and locked up?"  
  
There were voices in the hall and then the footman, Collins, appeared with two other men behind him. "Madam, I've brought the constable."  
  
Folken gave Doreena a pleading look, "Please Madam Roh . . . just a few minutes. Just let me see that she's alright." Doreena shook her head.  
  
Folken gave her a cold look and almost cried out as one of the men grabbed his bruised left arm. "Alright lad, I think it's time you do as the lady asks." Pinning Folken's arm behind his back, he roughly turned him around and pushed him towards the door.  
  
Folken cried out, "Please don't do this. Jin needs me . . . I know she does. Please . . ."  
  
Doreena let out a sob as Folken was pushed through the door. She felt Petra's arm tighten around her shoulders and she allowed the other woman to embrace her. The two were startled when Erich Roh's voice roared in the hall. "What the bloody hell is going on here?"  
  
Breaking away, Doreena rushed out into the hall. Erich was blocking the front door, with a puzzled expression on his face. He looked up and saw her, "Reena? What's going on?"  
  
Doreena bit her lip and dropped her eyes. "It's alright Erich. There's no harm done."  
  
"Like hell! Why is the constable here?" He looked at the young, pale-haired man being held. "And who are you? What's going on here?" Looking more closely at the man before him, Erich thought that he looked familiar; but he couldn't quite place him.  
  
Folken straightened up a bit and his voice was soft, "Please sir. My name is Folken . . . Folken Lacour. I was a friend of Coren's -- Coren and Jindra -- I only wanted . . . "  
  
Doreena hurried to her husband's side. "He pushed his way in here and demanded to see Jindra. He wouldn't leave . . . Collins had to bring the constable. But it's all under control now." At the mention of his daughter's name, Erich suddenly remembered where he had seen the young man's face before. "You -- you were the one in the drawing. I saw your portrait -- Jindra did your portrait."  
  
"Folken?" A hoarse voice sounded from above.

Twisting in the constable's hold, Folken looked up to see Jindra at the top of the stairs. He could feel his heartbreaking as he looked at her. She was still wearing her travel stained clothing and her hair was a tangled mess; but it was her eyes that brought a lump to his throat. Her eyes were hollow and empty looking; they held no life at all. With a small cry he twisted and managed to break the hold on his arm. Pushing the man aside, he rushed past a startled Collins and the other constable to the stairs. Jindra had started down and he was on the small landing dividing them when she stumbled a little and he caught her in his arms before she fell.  


He could feel the tears coursing down his face as she wrapped her arms around his mid-section and buried her face in his chest; whispering his name over and over like a mantra. His bruised torso cried out from Jindra's fierce embrace, but Folken bit back the pain and pushed it away.   
  
Clutching her tighter, the two sank to their knees and Folken could feel Jindra's tears as they soaked through the fabric of his shirt. Cupping her head with his right hand, he absently kissed the top of her head as he murmured to her. "I'm here . . . it's alright . . . I'm here . . . I'm here . . ."  
  
Folken didn't hear the gasp that escaped from Petra Kaberle at the sight of his metallic hand. Nor did he hear Erich Roh's exclamation or Doreena Roh's sob.   
  
Recovering from their earlier startlement, the two constables moved towards the steps, but Erich's voice stopped them. "No! Leave him be."  
  
One of the men looked up at the couple on the landing and then back at Erich. "Are you sure, sir?"  
  
Erich shook his head and moved away from the door, "Yes. It's alright . . . you can go. I'm sorry for any inconvenience." The man merely nodded and pulling his partner along, he opened the door and the two left.   
  
Going towards his wife and her friend, Erich put his hand under Doreena's elbow and guided her back into the parlor. Numbly, Petra Kaberle followed.

Closing the door, Erich turned towards his wife. "Judging from Jindra's reaction, I'm pretty sure I guess who he is . . . "  
  
Doreena twisted her handkerchief in her hands, "Erich you can't leave him -- them -- alone like that."  
  
"Why Reena? He's the one isn't he? I thought I recognized his name. He's the one that Coren was teaching before he left, isn't he? The sorcerer."  
  
Petra let out an involuntary gasp. Coloring, she felt Erich and Doreena's eyes on her. "Perhaps I should go . . . this is something between the two of you."  
  
Erich stepped towards his friend's wife and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry Petra . . . sorry that you were put into the middle of this." He let out a bitter laugh, " Never a dull moment in the Roh household, is there." Petra managed a grim smile and squeezed his hands, "Let me know if you need anything. Simon will probably stop by later, he said he wanted to look in on Jindra." She blushed a bit. Erich gave her a peck on the cheek and released her hands.  
  
Petra went to Doreena and embraced her friend. "I know this is none of my business Doreena, but -- but I think that boy really does care for her. I don't understand half of what's going on -- and I don't think that I want to -- but he may be what she needs right now. I know you don't like it -- but you saw the look on her face - on his. If she won't open up to you, I know that she will to him." Petra looked at her friend for several seconds and then embraced her once more. "Send for me if you need me." Picking up her wrap from the loveseat, she saw herself out.  
  
Doreena stood like a statue in the middle of the room, her eyes focused on nothing. She almost jumped when Erich touched her arm. Looking up at him, she felt tears in her eyes. Erich put his arms around her and held her in a tight embrace. His wife's voice was a whisper, "Are you mad at me? Are you mad at me for not telling you about this?"  
  
Erich brushed the top of her head with a kiss, "Mad might be too mild of a word, Reena. But there's not a whole lot I can do about it, is there?"  
  
Doreena sniffed back her tears. "I tried Erich . . . I tried to get her to see reason. I tried to discourage it, but you know how she is -- how stubborn she can be."  
  
Erich smiled to himself, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black. "Oh yes . . . she gets it from her mother's side of the family, you know."  
  
He felt Doreena stiffen a bit and he smiled again, there's my fiery Reena. Loosening his hold a little, he looked down at her face. "We have to make her see reason. She's put us -- not to mention herself -- in a very dangerous position. A sorcerer . . . I always thought Jindra had more sense than this."  
  
Doreena nodded, "Yes . . . but -- but what are we going to do about -- about him?"  
  
"We have to put a stop to it if we can -- but I have a bad feeling that it may be too late for that. I can't believe he's even here . . . a sorcerer . . . that metal hand -- it's just too bizarre . . ." Erich dropped his arms and let out a weary sigh, "As if we didn't have enough to deal with . . . I don't know Reena . . . one more thing and I just might crack . . . "  
  
Doreena felt tears in her eyes once again and she hugged her husband tightly. "You can't Erich -- I won't let you. We've weathered some bad storms. I know we'll get through all of this, too. I have to believe it . . . because I know that I couldn't live without you."  
  
Erich cupped his wife's chin and raised her face up. "I love you Reena . . . although sometimes I want to throttle you . . . but you mean more to me than my own life. Don't worry, I won't go around the bend and leave you." Giving her a mischievous smile he continued, "Besides, you're too stubborn to let me go." Bending his head he kissed her.  
  
Letting Doreena out of his embrace, Erich reached for her hand and held it. "If we can't get Jindra to see reason, then we'll have to try with him. Maybe we just need to put a little fear of the gods into him . . . scare him a little."  
  
"I don't know Erich, it just might make matters worse. He's very determined . . . he won't give up easily."  
  
"They never do." Looking down at her, Erich gave his wife a small sad smile. Now I know how your father felt Reena, and I can't say that I like it at all. 


	29. Chapter TwentyNine

TWENTY-NINE  
  


Folken and Jindra were together on the loveseat in the parlor, side-by-side, holding hands. Doreena had given him a disapproving look when she had noticed, but Folken had met her gaze and held it. With a frustrated sigh, Doreena looked away first. Erich could feel the tension between the two and judging from the tightness of his wife's jaw, he could tell that she was barely controlling her anger.  
  
Folken had refused Erich's offer of wine and had instead asked for water. Erich poured a small glass of brandy and handed it to Doreena, arching his brow at her expression. Glaring at him, she took the glass and stared down into its amber depths while Erich poured his own glass and sat down.  
  
Folken spoke first. "Please let me apologize for my behavior earlier. I understand that this is a very difficult time for your family. Believe me, I was raised with much better manners than I displayed today."

He felt Jindra squeeze his hand and looking at her father, he continued on. "I'm sorry for what's happened -- you don't know how much -- your son was . . . he -- Coren gave me his friendship -- offered it to a complete stranger -- and I will always remember him for that." He swallowed the small lump that had formed in this throat. "I'm glad that we finally have a chance to meet Mr. Roh. Coren spoke of you often -- he was very proud to be your son. I -- I -- just wish it could be under better circumstances."   
  
Erich regarded the young man silently for several moments. "Well, don't get your hopes up young man . . . what happened today was intolerable. You've upset my household even more and I can't say that my first impression of you is very favorable. But I can see that your words and feelings about Coren are sincere, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt -- but just this once."  
  
Erich took a quick sip of his glass and put it down on the table next to his chair. Looking up, he spoke to Jindra in a soft voice, "Jindra love, I'd like to speak with your -- with Folken for a few minutes. Why don't you and your mother go into the library, okay?" Doreena and Jindra both spoke at the same time, "No father, please . . ." "Erich! You can't . . ."  
  
Erich raised his voice and slashed his hand in the air. "Enough! You will do as you're told -- both of you. I will not tolerate anymore disobedience from you Jindra -- I'm still your father; and as long as you live under my roof you will do as you're told."  
  
Turning towards Doreena he was no less gentle, "Don't you argue with me either, Reena. I still haven't forgiven you yet for not telling me about this. I don't have any patience left, so you'd be wise to do as I ask."  
  
Doreena had never seen Erich so angry before and it scared her. Standing, she motioned for her daughter to come with her. Jindra glared at her father, but his expression was hard and she could almost feel his anger boring into her. Giving Folken's hand a tight squeeze, she looked at him. He gave her a small nod, "It's alright, Jin. Do as your father asks, please." Giving her father one last hard stare, she reluctantly let go of Folken's hand and rose from the loveseat. Doreena put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and they left the room, closing the door behind them.  
  
The two men sat for several minutes, quietly regarding one another. Folken could see Erich's jaw clench and unclench as he studied him. He knew that the man was angry, he could see it in his eyes and in the rigid way that he held his body. Folken had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he felt perspiration breakout on his forehead. Swallowing hard, he picked up the glass in front of him and took a long sip of water. He had just put his glass back down when Erich Roh spoke.  
  
"I know who you are, Folken Lacour," Erich put an emphasis on the last name, "even though I never laid eyes on you until today. Don't look so surprised. Did you think that I wouldn't be curious about a fencing sorcerer? Coren told me about you . . . and I did a little investigating of my own. You certainly are an intriguing young man, I must say that."

Erich watched Folken squirm a little, but he felt no satisfaction from it. "But if I had known about -- about your relationship with my daughter before now -- you can be assured that I would have done everything in my power to prevent it. I may still try . . ."  
  
Folken broke in before Erich could continue, "Please Mr. Roh, don't condemn me without at least hearing me out. I love your daughter -- more than anything -- please believe me. I would give up everything I have -- everything I am -- my very life for her. When I found out -- when I heard about Coren -- my heart broke. Not only for the friendship that he and I had; but because I knew how devastated Jin would be. I know you won't believe me, but -- but I could feel her calling out to me -- I could feel her pain and sorrow. I knew that she needed me and I ran all the way here from the -- I ran all the way here to be with her." Folken could feel tears in his eyes and he tried to swallow them down. "Please, she's so fragile right now -- I know how close the two of them were -- please don't keep me away from her." His voice broke as he finished speaking and he looked down, not wanting Erich to see his tears.  
  
Erich was moved a little by Folken's emotions, but his voice was hard, "Do you think I want to hurt Jindra? Do you think I want to see her in pain? Gods man, my whole family is suffering right now -- you can't begin to imagine how." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "My family is my life -- without them, I'm nothing. Can you understand that? I've lost my son . . . and if you and Jindra continue on down the path you've chosen, I may lose her as well."  
  
Erich rubbed his fingers across his eyes, "Unlike you, I was born in Zaibach -- I know how things are here. I had a cousin that went to the sorcerer's tower . . . I hadn't seen him in years. But when I finally did again, he was like a completely different person. He was so cold -- so emotionless -- there was nothing of my cousin left in that man, he was like a stranger to me."  
  
Folken looked up as Erich finished. "That's why I'm going to leave the tower. I don't want to be like that. I thought that I owed them for saving my life, but instead I realized that they just want to take my life from me." He looked down at his metal hand and Erich followed his gaze. "They did that to you?"  
  
Folken closed his eyes as if in pain and slowly nodded his head. "I should have died that day -- but this," he raised his arm, "this is how they saved me. I hate them for it . . . I hate them for making me into a freak. But I didn't want to die . . . " He dropped his arm to his side and hastily brushed his tears away with his left hand.

Folken took several deep breaths and he winced a little at the pain in his chest. Looking up at Erich, he continued. "You say that you know who I am; then you know who my father was." The other man nodded. "Everything that I had -- my family, my home, my country -- is gone now; because I failed -- I failed at the one thing that I spent my entire life preparing for."  
  
Folken looked away for a few moments, before continuing on. "I came to Zaibach with nothing and was given a second chance -- I was offered a home, an education, a purpose. What man wouldn't take such an offer and be grateful for it? But I want more -- so much more. I want love, I want happiness, I want a family -- I want to feel whole again. I love Jindra -- she's like a light in the darkness . . . the darkness of my soul."  
  
Folken swallowed hard once more and his voice was a hoarse whisper, " I -- I -- I think you should know that I've asked her to marry me."  
  
Erich clenched his jaw. "I guessed as much. Of course she said yes?"  
  
Folken slowly nodded his head. "She's agreed to come away with me . . . leave Zaibach."  
  
Erich's voice was ice cold. "Where will you go? How do you plan to get there? Do you even realize what kind of commitment marriage is? The two of you are still so young . . . how do you plan to live? How do you plan to support a family? You don't have any idea do you? You know I won't give you my consent -- I can't."  
  
"We don't need your consent. By Zaibach law, Jindra is of age -- she doesn't need her parent's permission to marry. " Folken knew it was the wrong thing to say even as the words left his mouth, but he didn't care. He felt that he had nothing to lose; he knew that nothing he could say was likely to sway Erich's opinion of him.  
  
Erich slammed his fist down on the table next to him, causing the brandy to slosh over the side of his glass. "So that's your plan? To elope with my daughter and become vagabonds?" His voice held a venomous tone, "I'll see you locked up before I allow that, do you hear me? Hell, I'll lock the both of you up!"  
  
Rising from his chair, Erich Roh pointed his finger at the young man across from him, "Listen to me -- and listen good. You will leave this house and you will not come back. More importantly, you will leave my daughter alone -- I mean it. You may not realize who I am, but I can make your life very difficult -- do you understand? If I so much as hear that you've been within ten feet of this house, or that you've tried to see or communicate with Jindra in any way; then you'll find out just how hard I can make things for you."   
  
Walking towards the door, Erich held it open. Shaking his head, Folken stood and went to the door. Before he passed through, he stopped and looked at Erich Roh one last time. His voice was cold and surprisingly steady. "You can threaten me all you like, but I'm not afraid of you. There's nothing you can do to me that will change my feelings for your daughter. Jindra is like a part of my soul -- we were meant to be together. She will be my wife, with or without your consent. Although for her happiness, I hope that you'll change your mind and give it. The more you try to push us apart, the further you'll push her away from you. I don't want her to have to choose between us . . ."  
  
"Get out of here! Now! Before I pick you up and throw you out myself!" Erich's voice roared.  
  
Folken was almost at the front door when Jindra came barreling out of the library door. "Folken! Don't go, you can't leave -- I need you -- please! I won't let him throw you out -- he can't make you go . . ."   
  
Doreena was right behind her, "Jindra! Don't . . ." She tried to clutch at her daughter as she ran towards Folken.  
  
Folken put his arms around Jindra and held her, oblivious to Erich Roh's raging glare. Jindra cried into his shirt and he smoothed his hand across her back. "Shhh . . . don't cry. I don't want you to cry over me, Jin." His voice was a whisper. "It's alright. You need to be with your family right now. Coren wouldn't want you fighting over me." He kissed the top of her head as he held her. "They can't keep us apart forever and I won't give up - I love you too much. It's just temporary. Shhh."  
  
Pulling away from her a little, he took her hands and held them. Looking down into her tear-filled eyes, he felt something break inside of him; but he wanted to be strong for her so he blinked back his own tears. "I love you Jindra -- never forget it -- never let anyone tell you otherwise. We'll be together, I promise -- I swear it on my very life." Bending down he kissed her forehead and let her go.  
  
As he reached for the door knob, he finally let his own tears fall. As the door closed behind him, he heard Jindra let out a sob and clenching his fists, he let out one of his own. Allowing his anger to finally break, Folken turned and swung his right fist into the side of the house. He paid no attention to the falling pieces of mortar that cracked away from the impact as he started the long walk back to the sorcerer's tower.  



	30. Chapter Thirty

THIRTY  
  


The carriage gently rocked as it slowly made it's way up the street. The curtains in the windows had been pulled closed and the interior was so quiet that all that could be heard was the creaking of the leather seats. Jindra sat on the bench across from her parents, staring at the silk window coverings as if she could see through them to the city beyond.   
  
Since Folken's departure last evening, Jindra had felt like she was drifting in some foggy, dream-like state; as if she were watching someone else's life from a distance. After Folken had closed the door behind him, even as she begged him not to go, she had lost all sense of herself. Turning, she had run to the stairs, only to find her father blocking the way. When he had tried to reach out to her, she had pushed him away. Strangely, she could vividly recall the look on his face -- like she had just taken a knife and stabbed him in the chest. Without speaking a word to either of them, Jindra had gone back upstairs to her room where she had remained until this morning.  
  
She had sat in her chair by the window, wrapped in a blanket and feeling chilled to the bone. She lit the fireplace in her room and had the maid bring her hot tea, but nothing could drive away the coldness that had settled over her. Shivering, she had cried long and hard into the night. She had cried over Coren, she had cried over Folken, and she had cried for herself; over the despair that had settled in her heart like a lead weight. She had never felt so alone; not even when she had been lost in the woods, injured and afraid. Coren had to go and get himself killed; Folken walked away and left me; even my parents -- even my parents have turned against me. I don't care . . . I don't have anything left . . . there's no reason to even try anymore.  
  
So Doreena Roh had found her daughter curled up in the chair, wrapped in blankets in a stifling room. Like a mindless automaton, Jindra had washed and dressed; without one word to her mother. She didn't even make a sound when Doreena pulled out an actual dress for her to wear. She had eaten a breakfast that she never even tasted and still shivering, she had wrapped herself in a woolen mantle as she followed her mother downstairs to the waiting carriage. The carriage that was to take them to the ship that had brought Coren's body back to the city.   
  
Although the trip was not long, it seemed so; due to the heavy silence that hung in the air. Erich glanced at his daughter occasionally during the short trip. He knew that she had been up crying throughout most of the night; he had stopped outside her bedroom door several times and heard her. Looking at the hollow-eyed, ghost-like girl sitting across from him, he wondered for the hundredth time if he had done the right thing by turning Folken Lacour out of his house. When Lacour had walked out the door, it was almost as if his daughter's spirit had gone with him. He could still see the look on Jindra's face when she had pushed him away the night before, and he knew that it would haunt him for a long time to come.  
  
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Anton Lefebvre made his way through the crowded common room of the tavern. It was mid-day and the place was packed for lunch. When he reached the bar, he pulled a folded sheet from his pocket and showed the wax seal to the barkeeper. With barely a glance, the man inclined his head to the left and in a gruff voice said, "Three." Reaching into his pocket once more, Anton threw two small bronze-colored coins on the bar and started in the direction the man had indicated. His destination was one of the small private dining rooms towards the back of the establishment. When he reached the door marked with the correct number, Anton hesitated. No more -- I'm finished. I can't go on like this. Taking a deep breath, his hand shook as he reached for the door knob.  
  
Anton was almost relieved to find the room empty. He's not here yet. Thank the gods. Closing the door, he felt the warmness of the room and he removed his overcoat and draped it over the back of one of the dining chairs. He was feeling anxious and started pacing about the small room. I have to get out . . . I don't want to cause anymore pain . . . this isn't what I wanted -- I can't do it anymore. Anton was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the door open.   
  
Quietly closing the door to the private room, the black-cloaked figure observed the young dark-haired man as he paced away from him. Having second thoughts, my young lieutenant? Guilty conscious weighing you down? Within the darkness of the cloak's hood, the figure smiled to itself. Fool man! It was so easy -- so easy to lure you in. But you can't escape -- you're mine, Lefebvre -- until I decide otherwise.  
When Anton turned, he jumped when he saw the dark figure standing in front of the door. "G-G-Gods above and below!" The figure smiled within it's hood once again. "Good day to you too, Lieutenant," a man's voice replied. Anton could hear a mocking amusement in the voice and he narrowed his eyes. "I find nothing good about this day -- nor in this past week."  
  
The cloaked man moved to the table and took a seat. "You seem to be a bit out of sorts, my young friend. Is there something troubling you?"  
  
"Troubling me? You know damn well what's troubling me." Anton stalked to the table and stood across from the other man. Thumping his fists down on the wooden top, his eyes flashed with anger. "I agreed to give you information -- information about Lacour. I--I--I never agreed to this . . . I never agreed to -- to murder . . ."  
  
"Murder? You had better watch yourself, Lieutenant. I wouldn't bandy that word about if I were you." The voice was like ice and even though he couldn't see them, Anton could feel the man's eyes burning into him. The young man felt the heat rise in his face and he tried to keep his voice steady. "Or what? You'll kill me next?"   
  
"Don't be so dramatic, Lieutenant. What happened to your friend was an accident - a tragic and unfortunate one to be sure; but an accident just the same." The man smiled to himself once again. He was enjoying the game -- Lefebvre was just a pawn in a much larger scheme; and pawns were always expendable. But he had much left to do before the game ended, and Anton Lefebvre still had a part to play. Then . . . then my young friend, you'll get your just reward. I promise you.  
  
Anton turned away. "Coren Roh was my friend . . . his family were like -- were like my own. I can't -- I can't do this anymore. I won't. I want out -- I'm finished."  
  
"Finished? I don't think so. I've held up my end of our agreement, Lefebvre. Your father's debts have been paid, with enough left over to ensure that your mother and sisters won't be turned out into the street . . . your family's standing has been restored. I've done what I agreed to and now you want to break your word? So much for your honor, Lieutenant."  
  
Anton spun around, "Honor? I've paid for my family's restoration with the life of a man who treated me like a brother. I've damned myself for all eternity and you think I care about my honor. The gods themselves would piss on my honor!" He pressed his hands to his eyes and let out a weary sigh. "The deepest pit of hell won't be enough to punish me for what I've done."  
  
The other man's voice was mocking, "So pious you've become, Lieutenant. Seems like only yesterday that you were damning Folken Lacour to hell instead of yourself." The voice quickly turned cold, "There are other forces at work here Lefebvre, forces greater than you realize. There is a much greater struggle going on here than you and your damned conscious . . . or you and your lust." He pushed back his chair and stepped towards the other man. "Ah yes . . . what about the girl, Lieutenant? I know how much you want her -- how much you desire her. Who will be there to comfort her during her time of grief? Who will she turn to? Would you rather it be that upstart freak, Lacour? Or should it be dear Anton, the grieving friend? How much more believable your sorrow will be to her now."  
  
Anton found himself involuntarily backing up a few steps until he felt the wall against his back. The man stood just inches from him. "Think about your mother and your sisters, Lefebvre. I can just as easily take back what I've given . . . and I can make it even worse, never forget that. Imagine going home one day to find your entire family gone -- without a trace. How would that burn in your guilty little soul, Lieutenant? You think you feel damned now -- you'll beg for the peace of hell before I'm through with you." Reaching into the folds of his cloak, the man brought out a large gold coin and flipped it through his fingers. "You are mine Lefebvre -- bought and paid for, body and soul . . . never forget it. Your service to me ends when I say so, not one minute before."  
  
Leaving Anton, the man went to the door and opened it. "You look like you could use a drink, Lieutenant." Flipping the coin in Anton's direction, he laughed. "Have one on me." The coin hit the floor and spun before stopping at the young man's feet. The door closed with a barely audible click.  
  
Anton slid to his knees and covered his face with his hands. I'm damned to hell . . . how could I have been so stupid? Oh Gods, please help me! There was a gentle knock and then the door opened. The serving girl looked startled at the sight of the young man kneeling on the floor. "S-s-sir? Are you alright sir?" Anton shook his head and started to rise. "Y-y-yes."   
  
"Oh. Well . . . uh, this was ordered for you." She placed a glass of dark wine on the table and then stood patiently, as if waiting for something. Anton realized that she was waiting to be paid and he reached into his trouser pocket. Looking down, he saw the gold coin on the floor in front of him. Picking it up, he tossed it to the girl. "Bring me another. No . . . bring the whole damned bottle. No, make it two bottles." The girl nodded, her eyes wide, "Y-y-yes sir!"  
  
Anton picked up the glass, his hand shaking. A whole damned vineyard won't help me. Nothing can help me now. Coren . . . I'm so sorry -- I never wanted this. He drained the glass in two long swallows. May the gods have pity on my soul.  
  



	31. Chapter ThirtyOne

THIRTY-ONE  
  


Jindra sat, tears streaming down her face as she looked at her brother's flag-draped casket. She had retreated to the small corner, hoping to regain her composure before the doors to the hall were opened. Wiping her eyes, she glanced up to see her parents, her grandfather and uncle standing together near the front door. She could see that her mother was also crying and watched as her uncle, Arturo, embraced his twin sister and whispered to her. She had always like Arturo; next to Bethanne, he was her favorite. She had missed not seeing him during her visit to Palas, but he had been away on a trade journey. Jindra was glad that he had come with Bethanne and Yellan; she knew how much it meant to her mother to have him there.   
  
Yellan Vardas' ship had left Palas within an hour of receiving the message about his grandson's death. As he quickly gathered some clothing together, he dispatched messages of his own to his other sons and daughters. Bethanne had met him at the ship, her luggage already loaded. Arturo arrived just a few minutes later. Each bore messages from their other siblings: almost all of them would be leaving for Zaibach by the afternoon. As soon as the three were aboard, the ship lifted off. They made what was probably the fastest crossing between Asturia and Zaibach, with Yellan driving his crew like a madman. The travelers had arrived at the Roh house not longer after the family returned home from escorting Coren's body back to the city.  
  
Commandant Varada had offered the use of the academy assembly hall for Coren's funeral service. Since their son was to receive full military honors, Erich and Doreena had agreed. They both thought that it was what Coren would have wanted. He had loved the academy and he still had many friends there. The service itself would take place tomorrow; but tonight, the hall would be open for those that wished to pay their respects and give their condolences to his family.   
  
Jindra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt a touch on her shoulder as she opened her eyes. Bethanne sat down next to her niece and put her arm around the younger woman and gave her light squeeze. "How are you holding up?"  
  
Jindra shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. "I--I--I can't feel anything, Bethanne. It's--it's like I'm numb inside."  
  
Bethanne pulled Jindra towards her until the younger woman's head was resting on her shoulder. "I know . . . I still can't believe it myself -- it just so horrible . . . so tragic."  
  
"I don't know if I can do this. I--I--I don't think I can sit here and let everyone pity me and tell me how sorry they are." She sniffed and felt tears in her eyes again. "I don't want Coren to hate me . . ."  
  
"Shhhh. Coren isn't going to hate you, Jindra. I know this is hard for you -- for all of you. But you have to try to remember that these people are coming here because they cared about Coren -- and they care about all of you too. They just want to let you know that. It isn't pity, Jindra -- it's love. Love for Coren, for your parents; and yes, even for you. No one expects you to be made of stone -- it's alright to cry in front of them. No one will think less of you -- they'll understand."  
  
Jindra sat up and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm glad you're here Bethanne . . . I--I just feel so alone. At least my parents have each other to hold on to . . . I--I just wish that . . . " she trailed off, not wanting to finish her thought aloud.  
  
Bethanne looked at her niece's face intently, hearing something more behind her words. "You're not alone Jindra. There are plenty of people that care and want to help you. As long as you have your family, you'll never be alone." Taking Jindra's hand, she gave it a squeeze. "They'll be opening the doors soon . . . why don't we go join your parents?"  
  
The two rose together. Jindra wiped her eyes once again and took a deep breath. Taking a few steps, she went to Coren's casket. She laid her hand on the lid and closed her eyes. When I see you again Coren . . . I swear I'm going to beat you with a stick for leaving me. You just wait -- I'll get you back for this. She almost imagined that she could hear his laugh, I'll be waiting for you little sister.  
  
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Jindra felt drained, emotionally and physically. She had never imagined that so many people would have come to call on her family. There were many that she knew, some that she had not seen for a long time and still many more who she had never met in her life. The latter were mostly people that her father knew in the government. All of them had been kind and she sensed that a great deal of their sympathy was genuine. Commandant Varada had sought her out and spoken with her for quite sometime. He had even embraced her and kissed her cheek, much to her astonishment. All in all, two hours passed without her even realizing it. The number of people had dwindled so that only a handful or so still remained. Taking a chair along the wall, Jindra rubbed her eyes with her fingers. She dropped her hands when she heard a familiar voice.  
  
Looking up, she saw Anton Lefebvre with her parents. Anton was holding her mother's hand as he spoke. As she watched them, she could see him stop and clear his throat several times. When he finished, Doreena reached out and hugged him. As her mother released the young man, her father reached out and shook his hand. Looking around the room, Anton spotted her. Bowing once again, he took his leave and made his way towards her. As he neared, Jindra could see the tears in his eyes and she watched as Anton hastily brushed them away with his hand. She started to rise as he reached her.  
  
"No, Jindra. You needn't get up for me." Anton's voice was soft. He gestured towards the chair next to her. "May I?"  
  
She nodded her head. Anton sat down, but he remained silent; his gaze fixed on something across the room. Jindra looked at the profile of his face and her breath caught at the pain that she could see there. Anton's eyes were red-rimmed and glistened with unshed tears. His expression was sad and she could sense the grief that radiated from him.   
  
Jindra sat quietly while Anton gathered his thoughts. After a few minutes he spoke, his voice just above a whisper. "I'm sorry Jindra -- I don't know what else to say. I'm so sorry for you and your parents." He turned his gaze towards her. "I know it's not much of a comfort to you -- but -- but I truly am so sorry for what's happened."  
  
"Thank you. I'm glad that you're here Anton. I know what good friends you and Coren were. I'm sure that it would mean a lot to him to know that you were here."   
  
He dropped his eyes and looked down at his hands. "Coren -- Coren was more than just a friend to me . . . he always treated me like a brother. He brought me to your home and made me feel so welcome. My -- my -- family isn't as close as I always led you to believe. My father and I have been estranged for a very long time. But when I was with your family . . . it made me want to reach out to him -- to try to have the kind of relationship that Coren had with your father. You've lost your brother -- and in a way, I feel like I have too." Looking at the profile of Anton's face, Jindra could see the tears running down his cheeks and she felt her own eyes well up.   
  
Anton was quiet for several minutes before he spoke again, and his voice almost sounded wistful. "Did you know that I told Coren I was in love with you the day after we met? He laughed and called me a hopeless romantic. He said there too many girls in the world to decide on one so quickly. Girls other than his sister." Jindra found herself smiling a little.  
  
"I--I know that you don't want to hear this from me, but -- but -- I do still care for you, Jindra. I-- I know that this isn't the place," looking up at her once again, Anton reached for hand. "But I--I want you to know that I'll be here if you need me." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and swallowed. Turning his dark-blue eyes back to her face, he reached up with his free hand and brushed her tears away. "I'll always be here for you, Jindra." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.  
  
She closed her eyes and tried to fight back her tears. Despite all that had happened between the two of them, she could feel Anton reaching out to her and Jindra felt an almost overwhelming urge to respond to him. Opening her eyes, she looked at him. She could see the sorrow and pain on his face, but she could also see something else in his eyes -- the love that he still felt for her.   
  
Jindra's voice was soft as she tried to express her feelings without causing the young man any more pain. "Anton . . . I've always cared for you too -- but not in the same way -- and that hasn't changed. I care for you as a friend . . . and a friend is what I need the most right now. I'd like us to be friends again -- but--but that's all I can give you."  
  
Anton dropped his eyes and looked down at their joined hands. "I know Jindra. You're in love with Folken Lacour. I don't like it . . . but I've tried to accept it -- for your sake as well as my own." He looked up at her. "Where is he? He should be here with you."  
  
Jindra dropped her eyes and started to pull her hand away, but Anton held on. "He -- my father -- my father threw him out of our house yesterday. I've been forbidden to see him again."  
  
"I'm sorry, Jindra. No, really I am. You're already hurting so much, it must have been unbearable." Anton tightened his grip on her hand.  
  
Jindra looked up at him, trying to read the expression on his face. "Anton -- I really don't want to talk with you about this. It's not fair to you."   
  
"You can talk to me about anything. But you're right, I'd prefer not discuss Folken Lacour." Anton raised her hand to his lips once again. "Thank you for sparing my feelings." He gave her a small smile.  
  
Impulsively, Jindra pulled her hand from his and then embraced him. "No, thank you Anton. Thank you for coming tonight, for being here . . . and for being my friend."  
  
Anton Lefebvre closed his eyes and bit his lip as he felt her arms around him. My love . . . I'm here. I'll take care of you. I owe it to Coren . . . maybe someway I can redeem myself for what I've done. Redeem myself with you.  



	32. Chapter ThirtyTwo

THIRTY-TWO  
  


After returning from Jindra's house, Folken had expected to be hauled back into Dornkirk's chambers to answer for his unauthorized departure. But he had been waved through the main gate with barely a thought after giving his name. He had met no one as he entered the tower and went to his rooms. Once there however, he had waited; expecting the guards to come for him. After pacing the front room for forty-five minutes or so, he allowed himself to relax. He was puzzled to say the least, but he had learned long ago that it was impossible to anticipate the emperor's moods.  
  
Dismissing it all, he had sat down and examined what had happened with Erich Roh. He couldn't ever remember being so angry as when he had left Jindra's house. The long walk back to the tower had done little to cool his temper, and he could still feel the fire of it burning within. He should have expected the man's dislike from the onset; especially knowing how Jin's mother felt about him. Anyone who had been born and raised in Zaibach would have reacted in much the same way. The sorcerer's tower and those connected to it were feared and equally hated. It was one of the first lessons Folken had learned in Zaibach.   
  
Folken had spent the better part of the night brooding over the whole disaster -- examining it from every angle, wondering if he could have done something differently. Frustrated, he had clenched his fists and banged them down on the arms of the chair. It wouldn't have mattered what I did or said. The only thing Erich Roh could see was what I was -- not who I am. But he had known who Folken was -- or at least who he used to be. Even a prince wasn't good enough for his daughter -- well a former prince anyway. Folken let out a weary sigh. A prince without a title, a throne, a country, a people or the means to support a wife or family. The man was right on that account anyway. You can't live on love . . . it won't feed and clothe you. But I can't live without Jin either. Gods! What am I supposed to do? Why is everything in my life so hard? Folken closed his eyes. I'm not going to cry. I refuse to cry anymore today. Taking several deep breaths, he willed himself to relax. I will find a way . . . somehow, I will find a way.  
  
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Folken slipped out of the small hidden door and into the shadowed alleyway. Unwilling to press his luck again by departing from the front gate; he had used his secret path out of the tower. Folken still could not believe his good fortune to have found the hidden passage and door. Judging from the cobwebs and dust that had accumulated in the dark tunnel, he had guessed that the passage had remained hidden and unused for a long time before he discovered it. It was his way out of the tower -- away from the watching eyes; and despite the painful attempt of Dornkirk's guards to wrest it from him, it had remained his secret.  
  
He had awoken this morning in one of the chairs in his front room. His had felt stiff and there was a weariness that had settled over him that even a cool shower had not been able to drive away. As he finished dressing, he had heard his stomach growl. He had not had a proper meal for the past couple of days, but he wasn't sure that he could face going to the common dinning room in search of breakfast. He didn't want to see Juri or Marco -- not after what had happened in the hangar when he had learned who the pilot of the first guymelef had been. It had been a very ugly scene and Folken's anger at the two men had not lessened. As angry as he had been with them, he hated Garufo even more than he did before. The man had smirked and almost looked gleeful when Folken had finally discovered the truth. He had heard the man's mocking laughter as he ran from the hangar. The more that Folken thought about it, the stronger his bad feeling had become that Garufo had something to do with what had happened.   


The secret tunnel led to a narrow alleyway several blocks away from the sorcerer's tower; and with a few quick steps, Folken soon found himself merging out onto the busy sidewalk. He had learned that Coren's body had been returned to the city and that his funeral service was to be tomorrow at the academy assembly hall. The hall would also be open for several hours this evening for those wishing to pay their respects; and that was where Folken was heading. Knowing that Jindra's parents were not likely to welcome his condolences, Folken had planned to wait until the very end and then slip in to pay his respects to Coren without anyone being the wiser. Therefore, he was surprised to see that there were still quite a number of people coming and going as he reached the hall.   


Standing near the door, he waited until a group of several people entered and then he slipped in with them. Separating himself, he kept to the side of the room and his eyes glanced about. He saw Jindra's parents on the other side of the room speaking with someone. As he made his way towards the dias where Coren's casket had been set, he saw Jindra sitting in a chair along the wall. She was sitting with a young dark-haired man who was wearing the dress uniform of the academy. The two were talking quietly and he could see a glitter of wetness in both pairs of eyes. The man seemed vaguely familiar, but Folken couldn't seem to place him. Moving to a small recessed alcove, he watched Jindra and the man as they sat together. Folken raised his eyebrow when the man took Jindra's hand and held it. After talking for several more moments, he saw Jindra try to pull her hand away, but the man did not let go. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the man bring Jindra's hand to his lips and kiss it. He expected her to protest and pull her hand away; and he felt disappointed when she didn't. The two spoke for a few more moments and Folken heard his own breath catch when he saw Jindra reach out and embrace the other man. When the man kissed the top of Jindra's head as she held him, Folken felt his heart clench in a wave of jealousy and he staggered back into the shadows of the alcove. Who does he think he is? Jin is mine -- I should be the one holding her. He closed his eyes, but the image of the two remained.  
  
Folken waited, hidden in the alcove, until everyone had left -- including Jindra and her family. Glancing out, he saw that there was a lone servant in the room, straightening up and putting out some of the lights. Stepping out into the room, he quietly made his way towards the dias. He was almost there when the servant spotted him. "Excuse me sir, but calling hours have passed. I've got to lock up now."  
  
Folken turned slightly, "Yes, I know. I was unable to come earlier and--and this man was a very close friend. I'll only be a few minutes. Please?"  
  
The man looked at him for a moment and then nodded his. Turning away, he continued about his business.  
  
Folken slowly approached Coren's casket. He looked down as he felt tears in his eyes. Reaching out he rested his hand on the flag-draped lid. His voice was a whisper, "Coren . . . I'm so sorry. I wish--I wish that we had more time to be friends. You were the first true friend that I had here. I know you didn't approve of my relationship with Jin, but--but I love her so much . . . I want you to know that. I'm sorry that we won't be brothers now. But I give you my word that I'll be there to love and protect her for you." He took a breath, "I also give you my pledge to find out what happened to you. I swear that I'll find out the truth . . . if it takes until my own dying day." And if Garufo had anything at all to do with it -- I swear I'll kill him with my own hands. I'll rip the flesh from that gut of his and wrap it around his neck until he turns black!  



	33. Chapter ThirtyThree

_THIRTY-THREE_

                Jindra had been unable to sleep during the night and had wandered down the hall to Coren's old bedroom.  As she stood in the middle of the room, she thought that she could still feel her brother there.  Some of his clothing still hung in the wardrobe and there were many small mementoes that he had not taken with him scattered about.  Even though her brother was gone, there was still so much of him in the room and she found herself comforted by it.

                Jindra sat on the edge of Coren's old bed, turning a large piece of shiny black rock over in her hands.  She remembered when the two of them had found it on the ocean shoreline in Palas.  They had fought over it for an hour, before their mother had taken it away and threatened to throw it back into the ocean.   Not wanting her mother to follow through on her threat, Jindra had reluctantly let Coren have it.  Much to her brother's credit, however, he had let her carry it back to their grandfather's house before taking it back.  Jindra was surprised that Coren had kept it all these years.   She was so wrapped up in her memories that she never noticed that her father had entered the room until he sat down next to her on the bed.  

                When Erich looked down into this daughter's face, he could see the glint of tears on her cheeks.  Without a word, he put his arms around her and pulled her close.  Jindra buried her face in the front of his shirt.  "I feel so empty -- so lonely . . ."   Erich kissed the top of her head.

                "Why?  Why did it have to be Coren?  It's not fair . . . it's just not fair!"

                Erich smoothed his daughter's hair with his hand.  "I keep asking myself that same question -- and I still haven't found any answers.  Sometimes there are no answers."

                Jindra pulled away from her father's embrace and looked up at him.  "Well that's not good enough.  I want answers, father -- and I won't give up until I get them.  I want to know what happened -- I want to know why it happened.  Coren deserves that much."

                Erich Roh looked at his daughter and his hand went up to brush the hair from her face.  "We'll have our answers, Jindra.  They promised a full investigation . . ."

                Jindra snorted, "Oh please!  We both know what kind of investigation will be done.  Some government flunky will look like he's doing something to appease us -- while he's actually doing nothing but sitting on his rear-end in a cushy little office somewhere."

                "You forget I'm one of those government flunkies with a cushy office."  Erich gave her a small smile.

                Jindra gave her father an annoyed look.  "No you're not -- you actually have a heart.  I know that you'd really care enough to find out the truth of what happened; and we both know that isn't likely to happen . . . but I won't let it rest, father.  I don't want some arrogant jerk to say that what happened was Coren's fault -- because I know it wasn't.  I know that he didn't cause the accident -- I know he didn't!"

                Erich reached her his daughter's hand.  "I know . . . I don't believe it either.  I-I've had this strange feeling that something isn't right -- but . . . but I don't know what to do about it.  I was tempted to approach Commandant Varada, but -- but I just don't know enough about what happened yet.  I can't go to him just because I have a feeling that what happened wasn't really an accident.  I-I need more information -- some actual proof."

                "Then we'll just have to get proof.  You have to stay on top of them -- you have to keep after them.  Please don't give up, father.  I don't care how many toes you have to step on or how high up the ladder you have to go -- just promise me that you won't let it go.  Promise me that you won't let Coren's memory be tarnished by this."

                Erich looked into his daughter's tearful eyes.  "Don't worry, love; I'm not going to let this go.  I want to know what happened as much as you do.  You have my word, we will find out the truth."

                Jindra reached out and embraced her father.  Pulling back she looked him in the eyes.  "I-I'm sorry father . . . sorry for disappearing . . . sorry for treating you so badly . . ." she looked down and took a breath, "I've been so horrible to you for the past few days -- you needed me and I pushed you away.  I'm so sorry -- I didn't mean it.  I love you so much."

                Erich felt tears in his eyes and he quickly blinked them away.  Cupping Jindra's face in his hands he kissed her on the forehead.  "I love you too . . . no matter what you say or do, Jindra.  You're my daughter -- I can forgive you anything, you know that."

                Jindra took her father's hand but remained silent for a few minutes.  Her voice was soft when she spoke, "I-I-I know we haven't been that close -- not like when I was younger --  but . . . but I want you to know how much I admire and respect you.  You've always trusted me and let me go my own way -- and I've always been grateful for that, you don't know how much.  I-I-I just don't want to ever be a disappointment to you -- all I've ever wanted is for you to be proud of me."

                Erich squeezed her hand.  "Jindra, love -- I've always been proud of you.  You're intelligent, independent, beautiful, caring, and artistic; you have such a gentle, caring nature.  What father wouldn't be proud of such a daughter?  You've become everything that I hoped you'd be."  Pulling his hand from her grasp, Erich embraced his daughter. 

                After several moments Jindra pulled away from his embrace, her cheeks were flushed, and Erich could sense that he had embarrassed her.  Trying to give her some time to regain her composure, Erich stood up, walked to the single window and looked out.  Jindra glanced up at her father and he appeared to be deep in thought.  After a few minutes, he turned towards her and spoke.  "Jindra . . . about -- about Folken Lacour . . ."

                Jindra stopped him before he could continue.  "No father, please -- not now."

                Erich had turned to face her and he had a puzzled expression on his face, "Does that mean that you've finally . . ."

                "Come to my senses?"  She finished the sentence for him.  Jindra shook her head, "No, it doesn't.  But I'm not going to give up on him either.  We are going talk about this, father.  But not here, not tonight."

                "Jindra -- you don't understand what you've gotten yourself into.  You don't know anything about him.  He isn't even from Zaibach."

                "I know everything there is to know about Folken Fanel, father."  Jindra saw her father's eyes widened as she said Folken's real name.  "That's right -- I know.  He told me everything.  I know who he really is -- where he came from -- how he came here."  She stood and walked towards her father.

                "Jindra if you know of all that, then you have to understand what that means.  Despite his birthright, he won't ever be . . . what he was intended to be -- he's been all but declared dead."

                "I don't care what it means, father.  Folken has left all of that in the past.  I know that he won't ever be the king of Fanelia -- but that means nothing to me.  I fell in love with him before I knew anything about his past.  I don't care if he's a king or a beggar on the street.  I'd still love him -- he's the only man that I'll ever love.  I know you think that I'm too young and that I don't know what love is -- but I do, father -- I do.  Folken's like a part of me -- he completes me -- and I feel so empty inside when he's not with me."  Jindra took a breath and looked up at her father as she spoke, "Please, I don't want to argue with you about this now; not here in Coren's room.  But I don't want you to be angry with me . . . "

                Erich reached out and rested his hands on her shoulders.  "I'm not angry with you Jindra; and you're right, this isn't the time or place.  But you and I -- and your mother -- will finish this conversation later."  Giving his daughter's shoulders a gentle squeeze; he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Its late love, you should try to get some rest."  Jindra nodded her head and then silently followed her father out of the bedroom.


	34. Chapter ThirtyFour

_THIRTY-FOUR_

                The day dawned with a promise of beautiful weather.  The sun was shining, the breeze was light and if it had been any other day, it would have been perfect.  But standing in the cemetery, next to her brother's open gravesite, Jindra Roh saw nothing of the day through her falling tears.

                The service at the academy had been quite lengthy, with many of Coren's friends and former instructor's wishing to speak.   Jindra had been surprised, and touched, when Anton Lefebvre had stepped up to the podium to speak.  He didn't speak very long, just a few minutes, but what he had said had been very heartfelt and Jindra could see the tears that glistened in Anton's eyes as he finished and stepped down.   As he left the raised the platform to return to his seat with the other bearers, Anton glanced in her direction and Jindra could see the shadows under his eyes and the pain on his face.  She knew that Coren and Anton had been friends, but now she could see just how deeply Anton's friendship with her brother had gone; and once again, she felt herself wanting to reach out to the dark-haired man.

                Jindra stood next to her father, while her mother and grandfather were on his other side.  Erich had taken his daughter's hand and held it tightly as Coren's casket was lowered into the ground.  As the bearers finished, Jindra turned her face away and pressed it into the fabric of her father's sleeve.  She bit her lip as she tried to hold back the sobs that racked her body.  As the service came to a close, Jindra tried to calm herself and regain her composure.  She pulled away from her father, but did not let go of his hand.  As the ceremony ended, several of the mourners gathered to toss flowers into the open grave. Jindra saw Simon and Petra Kaberle, Commandant Varada and several others as they bid their final farewells to her brother.   Jindra was forced to let go of her father's hand as people approached her to offer their sympathies once again.

                As the other mourners slowly departed, Jindra watched as her grandfather approached Coren's grave and whispered a few words to the memory of his grandson.  Jindra's parents then came forward, with Doreena leaning heavily on her husband's arm for support.  The two stood there for several minutes, silently saying their goodbyes to their son.   Erich hugged his wife as the tears ran unchecked down his face.  After a few more moments, he pulled away from her a little and gently led her back towards their waiting daughter.  

                Jindra clutched several of the white lilies to her chest as she watched her parents.  She knew that it was her turn to say goodbye, but she couldn't make herself move forward.  It was almost as if she had no control over her own body -- like her limbs were frozen.  Her eyes filled with tears and she started to tremble. Taking several deep breaths, she tried to gather her strength.  With an effort, she pushed herself forward.

                As she stood at the edge of Coren's grave, she could see his flower-strewn casket and the reality of all that had happened hit her full force.  Unable to hold herself together any longer, Jindra fell to her knees with a sob.  "I want my brother back!  It's not fair!  Please - give me my brother back!"  She flung the flowers down and wrapped her arms around herself as she cried.

                Erich Roh watched his daughter break down.  As he was about go to her, he saw Anton Lefebvre step forward and rush to her side.  The young man knelt down and put his arms around Jindra's shoulders.  The man looked up at Erich as if seeking his approval and Erich nodded back, grateful that Lefebvre had remained behind.  He watched as the young man bent his head towards his daughter, softly speaking to her.  It was several minutes before Jindra calmed down and allowed Anton to help her up.

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                Folken stood apart from the other mourners, across the cemetery.  He had quietly slipped in to the back of the hall for the funeral service and then followed the solemn procession to the cemetery.  He hated hiding, for Coren had been his friend as well; but he didn't want to upset Erich and Doreena Roh any further.  With tears in his eyes, Folken watched as his friend was laid to rest.

                As the last of the mourners departed, Folken saw that a few people had remained behind with Jindra and her family.   One of the men bore a very striking resemblance to Doreena Roh and he wondered if perhaps he was her brother.  He watched the small group as they approached the grave and said their final goodbyes. 

                Folken's tears ran down his face as he watched Erich and Doreena as they stood at their son's grave.  He felt his heart clench as he remembered standing next to his own father's grave only a few short years ago.  He knew the pain and grief that Jindra's family was going through and his heart ached for them.  _Despite what they say, time doesn't really heal everything.  Oh father -- what a disappointment I turned out to be.  Did you know that I was going to fail?  I never meant to let you down - I never meant to dishonor the legacy of our family.  I'm sorry I couldn't be the son that you deserved._

                Folken watched as Jindra slowly shuffled forward.  When she fell to her knees and cried out, he wanted nothing more than to leap forward and take her up in his arms.  His teeth clenched as he watched a young dark-haired man rush towards her side.  Folken instantly recognized him as the man that had been with Jindra the night before and he felt a hot flood of jealousy overtake him.  _Damn it!  If I weren't such a coward - it should be me!  ME!    _Biting his lip, Folken turned away to leave.  _Forgive me Jin - forgive me for being a coward.  All I know how to do is run away_.  Stepping forward, he was startled to find a woman watching him from a few feet away.


	35. Chapter ThirtyFive

_THIRTY-FIVE_

                Folken felt the heat in his face as the woman gave him an appraising stare.  The woman walked towards him until she was only an arm's length away.  Folken recognized her as one of the small group who had been standing with Jindra's family.

                The woman's voice was clear when she spoke.  "You're the one she needs right now, Folken -- not him."

                Folken was a bit taken aback.  "I-I-I'm sorry?"

                The woman raised her eyebrow.  "I was under the impression that you were quite clever, but it seems I must have been mistaken."

                Folken took a guess at the woman's identity, "You must be Jin's aunt, Bethanne."

                The woman tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement, "Why are you skulking around here when Jindra obviously needs you?  You should be at her side."

                Folken felt an involuntary blush creep up his face and he looked down at the ground.  "If I could be with her right now, don't you think I would?  I can feel her pain and grief like a knife in my own heart - but I can't -- I just can't!"

                "Can't or won't?"  Bethanne's eyes were as cool as her voice.

                Folken raised his head and met her gaze.  "I don't want to upset her parents anymore than they already are." __

                Bethanne looked at him thoughtfully for a few moments.  "Jindra told me a little of what happened with her father."   She moved closer to Folken and placed her hand on his arm.  "I'm sorry."  He looked up at her touch, "There's nothing for you to apologize for.  What happened with Jindra's father was nobody's fault but my own.  I let my emotions get the better of me . . . I brought all of this on myself."

                Bethanne walked a few steps away from him as she thought.  After a few moments, she turned back towards Folken, "You don't know me, but I will tell you that Jindra trusted me . . . and confided in me.  She told me that you asked her to marry you."  She walked back towards him, "I know -- I know how much my niece loves you . . . and I can see that same love in you for her.  I'd like to help you if I can."  Once again, Bethanne reached out and touched his arm.

                Folken turned his face away.  "I don't want to lose her - but - but I don't want her to have to choose between her family and me.  Especially not now . . . I know that her parents need her -- and she needs to be with them.  But-but  it's like . . .  like I can feel her sorrow and grief -- and it cuts right through me.  I want to go to her - I want to hold her in my arms -- I want to help her . . . "Folken's voice broke and he took a deep breath before continuing, " But she probably doesn't want to ever see me again.  I-I-I walked right out the door and left her there . . . left her there crying for me.  I-I-I don't know what I'll do without her . . ."

                "Jindra isn't lost to you forever, Folken."

                "No?"  Folken turned back towards Bethanne, "Here I stand, while the woman I love --more than anything in the world -- is in the arms of another man!  Why?  Because I'm too much of a coward to go to her."

                Bethanne sighed at the sadness and frustration she heard in the young man's voice.  "Then let me help you - both of you.  Come with me now."

                "Where?"  Folken's tone was a little suspicious.

                "Home -- to my sister's house, let me take you to see Jindra . . ." 

                Folken shook his head, "No!  Do you think I want Erich Roh to throw me out of his house again?  I can't -- I can't do that to Jin.  I can't let her go through that again!"

                "Let me finish -- you don't even have to go inside, you can wait out in the garden; I'll bring Jindra out to see you.  No one will even know that you're there -- I promise."

                Folken clenched his fists and shook his head.  "I can't -- please try to understand . . . I love Jin -- she means everything to me . . . but-but maybe her father is right . . . marrying me can only ruin her life -- I can't ever be the husband that she deserves."  Folken felt the tears in his eyes and he tried to blink them back.  "She deserves a man who can make her happy and give her a good life -- a home, a family . . . a name.   I have nothing to give her -- less than nothing."  Folken turned away from Bethanne as he tried to get his emotions under control.

                Bethanne squeezed her eyes shut at the tortured tone in the young man's voice.  Opening her eyes, she looked at Folken's back and she could see him shaking.  "I'll do anything I can to help the two of you.  You can come to Palas and stay with me if you need to -- I can even help the two of you get settled.  Please . . ."

                Folken spun around to face Jindra's aunt; his eyes were cold as he looked at her.  "You think I could ask Jindra to live on your charity with me?   What kind of man would marry a woman knowing that he couldn't take care of her -- that he had to rely on the charity of others?"

                "Folken, it's not charity -- its family.  That's what families do -- we take care of each other.  I want to help you get on your feet and make a home for the two of you -- no strings attached.  Jindra is my niece -- my family; and when the two of you marry, you will be too.  I understand what the two of you are facing -- I know how scary the future looks, the uncertainty that you feel -- it's perfectly normal.  There's nothing wrong in accepting a little help when it's offered."

                Folken shook his head.  "Help -- charity -- what's the difference?   That's not the way I was raised.  Where I come from, it's the husband's responsibility to take care of his wife and family -- to provide for them.   I can't do that . . . I don't have any skills that would pay enough to support myself, let alone a wife and children.  I can't live the rest of my life relying on you and your family to support us."

                "Don't worry; I have no intention of supporting you for the rest of my life.  I'm sure that we can find something for you -- some kind of position that will earn a decent living.  My father's business is quite large -- I'm sure that we could arrange something."

                "It's still the same thing . . . I'd still have to rely on your family -- I don't want to do that -- I don't want to be indebted to your family for the rest of my life."  Folken shook his head again and turned away from Bethanne.  "I don't know . . . maybe Erich Roh was right . . . maybe I was wrong to ask Jin to marry me . . . I didn't think about the consequences . . . I didn't think about what marriage really meant . . . I didn't think about the future."  He turned back towards Jindra's aunt, "How can I ask her to leave everything that she knows and loves to run away with me into an uncertain future?"

                "Folken, you can't make that decision for Jindra -- it's not fair to her.  She loves you -- very deeply -- she understands what marrying you will mean.  She knows that the two of you will probably have to leave here, but at least give her the chance to make that decision for herself."

                "How can I ask her to do that?  Even if she goes with me, I know that deep down she'll regret it.  Then her regret will grow into resentment and that resentment will stay between us for the rest of our lives.  She won't ever be truly happy -- even though she'll try to deny it -- but it will always be there; and she'll always wonder if she did the right thing."

                Bethanne shook her head in frustration, "Nothing in life is certain, Folken; especially love.  But you can't spend all your time second guess everything -- sometimes you just have to jump in and see what happens.  You have to put your trust in Jindra -- in her love for you -- you have to let her make her own decision."

                Folken let out a long sigh and took a deep breath.  Bethanne could see the pain and confusion in his eyes and she thought that perhaps she was getting through to him.  It was several long minutes before the young man spoke again.  "I love Jin, more than anything -- even my own life.  The only thing I want is for her to be happy . . . but I know she'll never be happy with me.  She deserves so much more than I could ever hope to give her.  My whole life, I've brought nothing but pain and disappointment to those that I loved -- and-and I can't do that to her -- I'd die before I did that to her."  He blinked back tears and dropped his eyes to the ground.  "I'm sorry -- I'm sorry that I ever asked her to marry me . . ." he trailed off and shook his head.  "All my time in the tower and I still haven't learned to control my emotions . . ." his voice was a whisper, as if he were speaking only to himself.

                Bethanne felt the anger wash over her in a wave as she listened to Folken's words.  "Are you deaf?  Have you heard even one word that I've said?  I can't imagine what Jindra ever saw in you.  All I see is a chauvinistic, prideful man who thinks he knows what love is but really has no clue whatsoever.  Perhaps you had it correctly after all Folken, you are a coward -- and yes, my niece does deserve better than you."

                Bethanne's eyes were ice cold, and Folken inexplicably found himself growing angry at her words.  He opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted when a man's voice called out, "Beth?  Where are you?  We're ready to go." 

                Jindra's aunt gave him one last disdainful look before she turned away, "Over here 'Turo -- I'm coming."

                Folken watched as a dark-haired man appeared and met Bethanne as she had turned away.   "Everyone else has already left -- the old man is gettin' antsy."  The man glanced in Folken's direction, "Who's your friend?"

                Bethanne shook her head, "Just someone I thought I knew; but it turns out he wasn't the man I thought he was after all."  Without a backward glance in Folken's direction, Bethanne took her brother's offered arm and retraced her steps back to their waiting carriage.

                Folken felt Bethanne's parting words like a slap across his face; and with tears brimming in his dark eyes once again, he turned and started walking.


	36. Chapter ThirtySix

THIRTY-SIX

                Jindra Roh wandered through the park, her thoughts lost somewhere inside.  The day was bright and warm, one of those beautiful summer days that made a day at the park almost mandatory.   She felt a little guilty about being out so soon after Coren's death, but she just couldn't sit at home any longer.  Jindra knew it was selfish, but she just longed to see someone other than her parents, Bethanne or the Kaberles.   Yellan and Arturo had returned to Palas a couple of weeks after Coren's funeral; but Bethanne had decided to stay for an extended visit.  As much as she loved her aunt and valued her company and friendship, Jindra had started to feel smothered by Bethanne's attentions.  She knew that her aunt meant well, but sometimes she just wanted to be alone -- something that Bethanne just couldn't seem to understand.  Jindra had begged off an invitation to have lunch with Petra Kaberle and her daughters, Martina and Gillian.  The three girls had known each other almost since birth and had once been quite close; but as they had grown up, their interests had changed and Jindra no longer had much in common with the two sisters.  Since Coren's funeral service however, they had once again renewed their friendship and Jindra had been grateful for Gillian and Martina's support while she still tried to come to grips with her brother's death and Folken's apparent desertion.

                She also didn't want to be home in case Anton Lefebvre stopped by.  Since Coren's funeral, Anton had called on her several times a week; and although she had been grateful for his support and friendship, she still had not changed her feelings regarding him.  Jindra had also started to feel a bit nervous around Anton lately -- he had changed a lot in the past couple of months, and they were not changes to the better.  The once immaculate and well-mannered Anton Lefebvre had become a disheveled, depressing shell of a man.  He often looked like he had just rolled out of bed with wrinkled clothes and knotted hair.  His face had taken on a pinched look and his eyes were constantly red-rimmed and bloodshot, as if he had not been sleeping regularly.  More than once, Jindra had strongly smelled wine not only on his breath, but on his clothing as well.  Anton had become almost unrecognizable from the proper, handsome Lieutenant that she had met at her brother's going away dinner.  Jindra was saddened by the change in him, and she hoped that the real Anton Lefebvre would find his way back from where ever he had gone.

                Jindra adjusted the heavily-leaden black satchel that hung off her shoulder as she walked.  She had paid a visit to Mrs. Marchment's bookshop earlier and despite her every intention of purchasing only one or two books; she had walked out the door with five.   Jindra had found herself reading more and more in the last few weeks.   Reading helped keep her mind occupied so that she couldn't think about Coren or Folken; it also helped her at night when she couldn't sleep, something that had become almost commonplace since her brother's funeral.  

                The kindly shopkeeper had asked her to stay for tea and Jindra found that an hour had passed as the two women chatted almost non-stop.  Jindra felt a pang in her heart as she remembered Mrs. Marchment asking after Folken; she had wondered where he was as she had not seen him in the shop for quite sometime.  Jindra had lied and told her that he had been very busy with his studies and that she would try to bring him with her the next time she visited.  Jindra had quickly finished her tea and made a hasty farewell on the pretense that she was meeting her parents for lunch.  She hated lying to the woman, but she couldn't bring herself to admit that she had not seen Folken for almost two months.  _Two months since he walked out the door and left me._ __

                Spotting the empty bench, Jindra sat down and dropped her leather bag down next to her.  It had been two months since the confrontation between Folken and her father.  Two months since Folken had kissed her one last time and told her that he loved her.  Two months without seeing him or hearing from him.  Two months of agonizing loneliness.  Jindra felt the tears burning in her eyes and she hastily tried to blink them away.  _Why Folken?  Why did you lie to me?  You knew you weren't coming back -- you knew it was over.  Why did you have to lie to me?  Did you ever really love me at all?_  Jindra reached for her bag and searched for a handkerchief.  As her hand felt around inside the satchel, her fingers touched a cool, smooth oval shape.  Pulling the object out, she saw that it was the lump of crystal that Folken had given her -- the one that he had made.  She had forgotten that it was in her bag; she had carried it with her since he had given it to her.  Taking the crystal in her hands, she watched the rainbows that shifted though it's interior from the sunlight.  Jindra felt a tear slip down her cheek and angrily she gripped the crystal in her hand.  She was tempted to throw it -- but she knew that she couldn't.  With a weary sigh, she dropped the crystal back into her bag and brushed her fingers across her eyes.  Leaning back on the bench, she closed her eyes and lifted her face up towards the sun.

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                Folken walked aimlessly; barely aware of the people that brushed past him.  He was so glad to be out of the tower, if only for a few hours.  He had been working almost non-stop on the reconstruction of the wreckage of the guymelef prototypes.  The heavy damage sustained by the mecha had caused countless delays and it was only late last night that the job had been completed.  Folken had been running on only a few hours sleep, scrounged here and there; and was on the verge of total exhaustion when Juri had ordered the group to quit for the night.  He had specifically ordered them to take the day off and reconvene after breakfast of the next day.  Folken had stumbled to his quarters and fallen into bed without even removing his clothes or boots.  He had slept until awakened by the call to lunch in the common dinning room.  Feeling slightly more alert and rested, he had showered, changed and had a hasty lunch before departing the tower.

                He had no exact destination in mind when he started from the gate, so he just let himself wander.  The weather was exceptionally nice and the sidewalks seemed to be busier than usual.  He soon found himself at the entrance to the city park and on a whim walked through the wrought iron gate and started down the path.  He hadn't been to the park in quite sometime -- the last time had been with Jindra several months ago. _ Jin_.  Just thinking about her made his chest ache.  Two months -- two months since he had last seen her, spoken to her -- touched her.  

                After his encounter with Bethanne Barrant at the cemetery, Folken had returned to the tower and relentlessly thrown himself into his work.  He reasoned that if he were consumed with work, he wouldn't be able to think about Jindra; if he were too exhausted, he wouldn't be able to dream about her.  But Jindra was always in his thoughts -- and in his dreams.  But he also wanted to keep his promise to Coren -- to find out what had happened to cause his death.  Juri had been surprised to see him when he returned to the storage hangar and started back to work.

                Folken's ears still burned with Bethanne's last words to him; and as much as they had angered him, he knew that she had only spoken the truth.   It had taken some time to admit it to himself, but he realized that she had been right.   He was a coward -- he was afraid to make that final commitment to Jindra -- to leave Zaibach and go back out into the world with her.  He knew that if the two of them married, they would be forced to leave the city -- there was no way that the tower would allow it.  But as much as he loved Jindra and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he was so afraid that someone would recognize him for whom he really was; or worse, that his mother and brother would find out that he was alive.  He had failed them -- failed Fanelia -- and he couldn't go back and face their disappointment and hurt.  But he loved Jindra; she was so much a part of him now that it pained him to be without her for any length of time.  Indeed the past two months had been almost unbearable -- he could only imagine what she must be feeling; and he hated himself for it.  He hated himself for being too much of a coward to tell her of his feelings -- or of his fears.  Despite all that happened between the two them, there was still something that held him back -- something that wouldn't allow him to confess all of this to her.  He was so afraid that she wouldn't understand or that she would think him less of man because of them.  So he had kept himself away from Jindra -- built a wall of work and silence around himself -- but he still couldn't keep thoughts her out of his mind or his heart.

                Folken tightly clenched his fists and took a deep breath.  _I've got to stop it -- I can't go on like this.  It's not fair to her . . . for her to believe that I don't care anymore.  But I'm just so afraid . . . why does everything in my life have to be so hard?  _ Folken tried to will himself to relax as he took another deep breath.  He had been so lost in his thoughts, that he hadn't realized he had branched off the main path until he found himself in the small clearing where he used to practice fencing with Coren and Jindra.  Glancing up, he was startled to see Jindra apparently dozing on the park bench just a few feet away.

                Folken's first thought was to turn around and quickly leave.  He knew he couldn't face her; he didn't want to see the hurt and scorn in her eyes when she found him there.  But instead of leaving, he just stood there and looked at her.  He saw that she had cut her hair -- she had let it grow long because she knew that he liked it; but now it was in the same short, face-framing style as when the two had first met.  The sunlight brought out the golden highlights in her auburn hair so that it sparked like a fire.  She was dressed in one of her usual trouser/overdress outfits; this one was dark gray with black trim at the neck, cuffs and hemline.  Next to her on the bench was her old black bag; and from the tale-tell bulging of the leather, he guessed that it was crammed with books.  As he looked at her, his mind flashed back to that stormy night in the hunting lodge -- how peaceful and serene Jindra had looked as she had slept curled up in his arms after the two had made love.  He remembered how contented and comfortable he had felt as he held her -- like it had been meant to be all along.   Looking at her as she dozed on the park bench, Folken felt his heart clench -- _she looks so beautiful _-- and all his earlier doubts and fears seemed to slip away.   Frozen to the spot, Folken barely heard the loud joyful shriek of a child nearby.  He watched as Jindra started and opened her eyes at the sound.


	37. Chapter ThirtySeven

THIRTY-SEVEN

                Jindra was startled from her unplanned nap by the loud cry nearby.  She almost jumped in fear at the sound until she heard the loud laughter that followed it.  Sitting up, she rubbed her fingers across her eyes.  As she dropped her hands, she sensed someone nearby.  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the sight of Folken standing just a few feet away from her.  Slowly rising from the bench, Jindra felt her mouth go dry and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat.  The two stared at one another for several long minutes.

                "Jin . . ." Folken's voice was a hoarse whisper.

                Jindra grabbed her satchel from the bench and clutched it to her chest, "I-I-I have to go."  She quickly started towards the path.

                "Jin!  Please -- wait!"  Folken followed after her.  "Don't go -- please -- don't go," his voice pleaded with her from behind.  Folken reached out and tried to grab her shoulder, but Jindra flinched away from his touch and he quickly dropped his hand.  "Jin -- please . . ."

                Jindra stopped and squeezed her eyes shut.  She took a deep breath, settled her bag on her shoulder, opened her eyes and turned around to face Folken.

                Once again, the two stood and regarded one another.  Jindra was startled by Folken's haggard-looking appearance -- she thought that he looked like he had been ill.  There were dark shadows under his eyes; his skin was paler than she remembered; she could see hollows underneath his cheekbones and she thought that he looked like he had lost weight.  Mostly she thought that he looked tired and sad.  

                Folken looked at Jindra and he could see sadness in her eyes as she looked at him.  "Jin . . . I'm sorry -- so sorry . . . please forgive me . . . I didn't mean to leave you alone -- I wanted . . ." He trailed off, struggling to put his feelings into words.

                Jindra shook her head and bit her lip as she tried to keep her tears in check.  "It's too late, Folken.  Maybe last week -- or even yesterday . . . if you had come to me -- sought me out . . . I don't know -- I may have forgiven you.  But not today -- you're only trying to apologize to me now because you just happened to see me -- not because you wanted to."  

                Folken dropped his eyes for a few moments, unable to meet her unflinching gaze.  He took a deep breath before looking back at Jindra.  "I-I-I never  . . . I never meant to hurt you, Jindra -- I love you . . ."

                Jindra snorted, "Love me?  If this is your idea of love, then you truly have become one of those twisted, black-hearted monsters of the sorcerer's tower."  She blinked her eyes several times as she tried to keep from crying.  _I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry over him. _ "You ask me to marry you and then you virtually disappear from the face of world -- and you call that love?"

                Folken glared at her.  "It wasn't like that, Jindra; and you know it.  I-I-I wanted to be with you -- I could feel myself dying inside every minute that we were apart.  But I thought it was best for you to be with your family -- you needed to be together."  Trying to calm his own anger, he took a breath before continuing.  "Not a minute has passed in the last two months that I haven't thought about you -- dreamed about you.  You are so much a part of me . . . I do love you -- but I just . . . I just had to work some things out for myself -- I needed to take sometime to look at the future -- at us -- at what I really want."

                Jindra crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a cold look.  "And just what is it that you want, Folken?"

                He stepped closer to her, but did not touch her.  "You -- that's what I want, Jindra.  You're the only thing in the world -- besides my own family-- that means anything to me.  Even my own life is worthless when compared to you . . ." 

                Jindra swallowed hard, trying not to cry at his heartfelt words. "Then why, Folken?  Why did you leave me -- where have you been for the last two months?"

                He reached out and gently took her hands in his.  He waited a moment or two, giving her the chance to pull them away.  When she didn't, he tightened his hold.  "I-I-I didn't leave you -- at least not intentionally.  I wanted to give you -- and your family -- some time.   I-I-I wanted to let everything cool off for a while -- I was hoping that your parents might change their minds about me; they already had so much to deal with -- I thought that if they had time to reconsider everything . . . then -- then maybe they would be more willing to listen to us."

                Jindra looked down at their joined hands.  "I-I-I don't care what my parents think, you know that.  As much as I love them -- they just refuse to understand."  She raised her eyes to his face and Folken could see the tears that brimmed in her silvery-gray eyes.  "I-I-I was so alone . . . I needed you to hold me -- I just wanted to know that you were still there . . ."

                Folken closed his eyes at the sadness in her voice.  "I'm so sorry, Jin -- so sorry.  I didn't want to cause you anymore pain -- I-I-I thought that you'd be alright, that you'd have your parents and the rest of your family with you.  You've always been so strong -- I thought you'd be alright . . . I'm stupid -- so stupid.  I don't deserve you -- all I've ever done is let you down when you needed me."  He turned his face away from her, "My whole life, I've let everyone down."

                Jindra broke his grasp on her hands.  Reaching up, she gently turned his face back towards her.  "Sometimes I don't understand you at all.  I don't think I've ever met anyone who hates himself as much as you do Folken.  You're unworthy -- you're a coward -- you're undeserving.  Sometimes I just want to shake you until your teeth rattle!  Where did you ever learn to believe such nonsense?  Is it because you didn't die that day in Fanelia?  You think that because you survived that it somehow made you less of a human being?"

                Folken pulled away from her and turned his back.  "But I am Jin -- don't you see?"  He yanked up the sleeve of his jacket and she heard the cloth rip.  "Is this what you call human?"  He spun around and held out his mechanical arm to her.  "Look at me, Jindra!  Look at just how human I am."  Jindra dropped her eyes and looked away from him.  With a frustrated sound in his throat, Folken pulled the torn cloth back down over his arm.  "This is what I am -- do you want to spend the rest of your life with a freak?  Do you want your children to be afraid of their own father because he's a hideous monster?"

                Jindra felt the tears in her eyes as she looked at Folken's pain-twisted face.  "If I thought that you were a monster would I have made love with you?  Would I have agreed to marry you?  Would I be willing to give up everything just to spend the rest of my life with you?"  She sighed in frustration, "If I was going to be repulsed by you, don't you think it would have happened that night in the lodge?"  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  "I've tried so hard to show you . . . that-that night in the lodge . . . I-I-I thought that by making love with you that -- that maybe you'd see how much I loved you.  I gave myself to you that night because I wanted you not only see it, but to feel it -- like the way I feel for you.  When--when we were . . . when we were together . . . it was as if I could feel you touching my soul.  But-but as hard as I tried, I couldn't touch yours . . ." She turned away from him, unable to hold back her tears any longer.

                Folken felt the tears spark in his eyes as he looked at Jindra's shaking shoulders.  "Jin, I'm . . ." He reached out and touched her shoulder.

                Jindra pulled away from his touch.  "Don't Folken!  Don't say it -- it only makes it worse."  She turned back to face him.  ""I'm tired, Folken -- tired of arguing with you -- tired of trying to convince you that I love you.  Either you believe it -- and feel it in your heart -- or you don't."  Jindra swallowed down the sobs that threatened to escape from her throat. "I can't live like this, Folken -- it hurts too much.  It hurts that after all  you and I have shared together, that you still can't trust me enough to believe in my feelings for you." Jindra brushed at her eyes with shaking hands as she tried to sniff back her tears.

                Folken looked down, unable bear the sadness and pain on Jindra's face.   _She's going to walk away from here and I'm such an idiot that I'll let her.  But I can't -- I can't let her go . . . I need her too much . . . I need her love -- her strength -- her faith in me.   If I let her go, I'll be left with nothing -- nothing but the cold and loneliness of the tower.  I don't want to live like that -- I don't want to spend the rest of my days locked away in that godforsaken place._

                Jindra's voice was soft and Folken almost didn't hear her when she spoke again.  "I-I-I wish I could say that I hated you -- but I can't -- as much as I want to I can't.  Y-y-you made me feel  . . . special . . . desirable," he could see the blush on her cheeks, "even . . . even a little beautiful.  When you held me in your arms -- it was like I was home . . . some place safe and warm -- like I belonged there."  She brushed at her eyes once again.  "But you also hurt me, Folken . . . you lied to me -- you deserted me -- you gave me hope and then took it away . . .  I gave you my heart -- and instead of loving it and caring for it -- you broke it and threw it away . . .  I-I-I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust anyone again -- not like I trusted you.  I wish to the gods I had never met you Folken Fanel!"  Jindra turned away from him and ran down the narrow path out of the clearing.

                Folken stood as if frozen, as he watched Jindra run away from him.  It was several long seconds before the heart-wrenching sob escaped from his throat and Folken wrapped his arms around himself, the claw-like fingers of his metal hand digging into the flesh of his left forearm.   Folken barely felt the sharp stabs of pain as he tried to catch his breath from the sudden tightness in his chest. 

                Jindra had disappeared around the curve in the path by the time Folken regained control of himself.  Unwinding his arms, he stared in horrified fascination at the blood-stained tips of his metal fingers.  Finally feeling the pain from the wounds in his arm, Folken looked down at the bloody holes in his sleeve.  Clenching his fists, he narrowed his eyes and looked towards the path that Jindra had just run down.  _Damn you, Jindra Roh!  You're not going to get away from me that easily -- I don't care what you say!  For once in my life I'm not the one running away.  I won't let you go . . ._

                With a growl in his throat, Folken started down the path after Jindra; his long legs eating up the distance between them.


	38. Chapter ThirtyEight

THIRTY-EIGHT

                Jindra hugged her knees to her chest as she cried, the rough bark of the oak tree digging into the small of her back.  She had forced herself to stop running after she had nearly knocked down a young woman carrying a baby.  She had been running blindly, tears obscuring her vision as she tried to breathe through her sobs.  The woman had given her a few choice words as she had tried to apologize.  Feeling even worse, Jindra had spotted the empty spot underneath the tree and thrown her bag down with a thud.  Resting her forehead on her arms, she cried on -- oblivious to the stares and whispers of those around her.

                Folken had been forced to slow his pace on the crowded pathway as well.  He brushed past people without so much as the murmur of an apology, his mind focused only on finding Jindra.  He was in one of the larger open areas of the park and he quickly scanned the path ahead and the surrounding area for signs of her.  He was passing the gigantic old oak tree when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a figure in dark gray on the ground.  Quickly turning back, he saw that it was Jindra.  Folken felt a pang in his heart as he saw her shaking shoulders, and he knew that she was crying.   Several long strides brought him to her side; and kneeling down, he put his arms around her and silently held her.

                Jindra stiffened as she felt the arms go around her shoulders and the press of a body against hers.  Instinctively she knew who it was that held her; and as much as she wanted to fling Folken's arms away, she couldn't bring herself to break his warm, comforting embrace.  Slowly, she allowed herself to relax into Folken's arms and he responded by lightly kissing the top of her head.  The two remained silent and just held each other as a number of curious people passed them by.

                Folken felt his knees stiffening up from kneeling so long, but he was reluctant to break his hold on Jindra by moving.  Trying to shift into a more comfortable sitting position, Folken felt Jindra pull away from him a little and he quickly tightened his arms around her.  _Oh no -- you're not getting away from me again.  _As he settled himself on the ground, Jindra once again tried to pull away from him but he refused to loosen his hold.  "Folken . . . let go of me . . . please, let me go."

                "I don't think so, Jin.  You're not running away from me again.  If I have to stay here and hold you like this until I'm hundred years old, then I will; but I'm not going to let you go -- not now, not ever."  There was firmness in Folken's voice that made Jindra believe that he would do exactly as he said.

                "Please, Folken . . . I can't breathe . . . please . . ."

                Folken reluctantly took his arms from around her and then shifted his position once again until he sat facing her.  Jindra straightened up and let her knees relax a little, but she kept her eyes down and did not look at him.  Folken reached out and took Jindra's hand in his left one, but she still did not look up.  _I knew this wasn't going to be easy; but I have to at least try.  I can't – no, I won't give up -- not this time.  _"Jin . . ."

                "Why can't you just leave me alone, Folken?  I just want to be alone . . ."

                "If that were really true, then why are you still here?  You could get up and run away from here -- what's keeping you here, Jin?"

                Jindra shook her head and brushed at her eyes with her free hand.  The two sat silently for several minutes; finally Folken cleared his throat and broke the silence.  "I know you've heard it from me a hundred times already . . . but I am so sorry, Jindra.  I didn't mean to hurt you . . . I never wanted you to feel that I didn't care for you anymore.  I'm just so selfish . . . I can't see past my own worries and problems . . . I'm just so afraid sometimes . . . afraid that you'll see I'm not the man you believe I am . . ."  His voice broke a little and he took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing.  "I want to be strong for you, Jin.  I want to hold you and comfort you -- to make you feel my love for you.  But-but- I'm just so afraid that it won't be enough -- that I'm going to let you down.  I-I-I never want to do that to you . . ."

                Jindra raised her head a little, but she still would not meet his eyes.  "Then why do you keep hurting me, Folken?  Why do you keep pushing me away?"  Her tone was accusing and Folken closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  "I-I-I don't' know . . . I know it's a lame answer, but it's the only one I can give."  Jindra gave the barest shake of her head and Folken knew that he was losing her.  _Out with it man!  Tell her the truth._

                "I-I-I saw your aunt Bethanne at the cemetery -- at Coren's funeral."  Jindra looked at him quickly before dropping her eyes once again.  "She saw me -- I didn't know who she was at first . . . but-but she said . . . she said some things that made me angry.  But it was only the truth . . . she only spoke the truth and I was so angry with her for it.  It took me some time to see that she was right . . . and by then I thought it was too late -- too late for us."  Folken stopped and swallowed, trying to clear away the lump that had formed in his throat.  "I'm a coward, Jin.  I know you hate it when I say that -- but it's true."  He tightened his grip on her hand.  "The truth is I'm afraid to leave here -- leave Zaibach.  I'm afraid to go back out into the world . . . I'm afraid that someone will recognize me -- that my family will find out that I'm alive."

                Jindra looked up at him, her eyes wide.  "Why Folken?  How can you want your family to believe that you're dead?  I know how much you miss them -- how much you love them.  Don't you want to see them again?  I just don't understand."

                Folken couldn't meet her eyes and he looked away.  "I don't know if I can explain it to you, Jin -- sometimes it's hard for me to understand.  My father was a great man -- a great warrior, a just king, a caring father.  He was the one person in the entire world that I respected and I-I-I wanted so much to follow in his footsteps and be just like him.   From the time I was five years old, he started training me to take his place -- almost as if he knew, even then, that he didn't have a lot of time left.   By the time Van was born, I was working with my father side-by-side; dealing with the daily running of the kingdom, meeting other heads of state, hearing disputes . . . I was only ten years old!  Sometimes it seemed as if the whole weight of Fanelia was resting on my shoulders . . ." Folken stopped and took several deep breaths.  Jindra could see the wetness that glittered in his eyes and she resisted the urge to reach up and brush his tears away.  She knew that this was something that he needed to do and she was loath to interrupt him.  Instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.

                Inwardly, Folken smiled as he felt Jindra squeeze his hand; gathering his courage once again, he continued.  "When-when my father became ill, I-I-I didn't want to accept that he was dying.  He was the strongest person that I knew -- he couldn't die!  I wasn't ready to take his place -- I couldn't ever take his place.  I could never be the person that he was . . . he tried to reassure me -- to show his faith in me . . . but I was so afraid.  I didn't want to let him down . . . I didn't want to dishonor the legacy of our family."  Once again, he was overcome with emotion and he fell silent for several moments.  Jindra felt the tears in her eyes once again; she could almost feel the pain that radiated from Folken and she felt that her heart would break from it.  

                His voice a hoarse whisper, Folken started again.  "I wasn't ready . . . I wasn't ready when he died.  I had more than enough time to come to grips with it -- but I still wasn't ready for it.  I didn't even get a chance to really mourn for him before -- before I had to . . . before I had to take his place -- before I was sent out to-to . . ."  He shook his head, unable to say the words.  Folken's voice was hard when spoke again, "I knew what was expected of me -- what I was supposed to do . . . I wanted to be strong -- I wanted to honor my father's memory . . . I wanted to be everything that he believed me to be . . . but I knew that I wasn't . . . maybe that was my undoing -- I didn't believe in myself enough.  Maybe deep down, I wanted to fail . . . that way I wouldn't have to try to be more than I was.  I don't know -- maybe I was too young . . . but my father was my age when he came to the throne . . . I wanted so much to be like him -- so how could I refuse to go?  I could have waited until I was older -- it wasn't unheard of -- no one would think less of me if I did.  But I didn't want to -- I didn't want to be a coward . . . and so I-I-I went out into the forest to fulfill my destiny."  Folken had turned back towards Jindra and he saw the tears in her eyes and he was touched by them.  "You-you know the rest . . . I didn't slay the dragon -- and I failed to become the man that my father always wanted me to be."

                Jindra raised her free hand to his face and stroked his cheek, "Don't, Folken -- don't say that.  I'm sure that you're father never wanted you to die . . .  But that's in the past now -- you have to let go of it.  You have to let go of it or you'll never be happy.  You can't let the mistakes and doubts of your past rule your life forever.   I know it hurts -- but you can't let that hurt eat away at your heart, Folken.  You're only as strong as you believe yourself to be -- and if you let keep telling yourself that you're weak and a coward, then of course you're going to start to believe it.  In the past two years you've changed so much -- not just physically -- although you've grown and changed so much in that respect that anyone who knew you before would be hard-pressed to find that sad fifteen year old boy who left his home.  But you've changed on the inside, too.  When we first met I thought you were the saddest person that I'd ever seen in my life.  You rarely spoke, you kept yourself apart from everyone . . . you radiated pain and hurt like the sun."  Jindra looked down and gathered her thoughts for a few seconds before she spoke again.  "But now -- look at yourself, Folken -- you're out in a public place; you've accepted the friendship of other people, and given yours in return;" Jindra gave him a small smile, "hell, you've even been known to smile and laugh on occasion."  He gave her a wry look, but said nothing.

                "You've come so far in the last few years, Folken . . . but the only person holding you back from being happy and having what you want in life is yourself.  You have to accept -- and believe -- in yourself before anyone else will.  I've tried -- I've tried so hard to make you see that, to show you that I believe in you -- that I love you -- but you've built a wall around yourself, Folken; and as hard as I try, I can't get past it.  As long as that wall is there, then we won't ever have a chance to be truly happy.  I can't spend the rest of my life with a man who doesn't trust me -- who won't let me into his heart."  Jindra sniffed back her tears and dropped her eyes.  Her gaze fell on his left arm and she suddenly noticed the bloody holes in the sleeve of his jacket.

                "Folken!  What happened to your arm?"

                He looked down as if seeing the blood-stained cloth for the first time.  "It's nothing.  They don't even hurt."

                Jindra reached out a tentative hand.  "Nothing?  Gods, you're bleeding."  Understanding dawned on her and she snapped her head up.  "You-you did this to yourself."  It was more of a statement than a question.  "Why?  How could you do that to yourself?"  She pulled her hand back and Folken could see the fear in her eyes.

                Folken shook his head and his voice was nonchalant, "It was an accident.  I'm alright -- they're nothing."

                "Folken -- you hurt yourself like this and you say it's nothing.  What's wrong with you?"

                He pulled his hand away and wrapped his arms around himself.  "You're what's wrong with me Jindra!  I-I-I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.  You have me so turned around I don't know if I'm coming or going."  He tried to calm the anger in his voice, "I was so angry when you ran away . . . I didn't even realize that it happened until a few minutes later.  But it was worth it -- the pain brought me back to my senses and I came after you.  I wasn't going to let you run away from me -- not if there was still a chance that you still cared for me."

                She snorted at him, "What made you so sure -- hell, what makes you so sure now that I give a damn about you."  Jindra's outburst caused several people to look in their direction, but the two never noticed.

                "Jin . . . don't -- please don't be like this.  I'm trying my hardest to apologize to you -- to explain . . . explain my feelings -- actions to you."  Jindra suddenly felt very small and she dropped her eyes once again.  He turned to look at her, "When you told me that you couldn't hate me -- then I knew that maybe -- maybe there was still a chance for us."  He reached out and took her hand once again and waited for her to pull away.   When she didn't he closed his eyes and silent sent a thank you out to the gods.  Folken swallowed several time as he tried to put his feelings into words. 

                Folken looked down at their joined hands and gently ran his thumb along the back of Jindra's hand; his voice was steady and strong.  "Jin . . . I-I-I can't let you go . . . I can't let you walk away from this -- from everything that we have together.  I love you too much to let you just walk away . . . I need you -- I need your strength . . . your faith and courage . . . but mostly I need your love.  I-I-I know there are still a lot of things that I need to work out . . . and I want you to be there to help me -- to hold me . . . and to scold me and tell me that I'm being ridiculous and stupid . . ."  Jindra raised her eyes to his face as he spoke.  "Without . . . without you I have nothing -- I am nothing.  I-I-I don't want to spend the rest of my life in that godforsaken tower . . . I've had a taste of love and happiness with you, Jin -- and I want more, so much more."   Folken's voice broke as he finished and Jindra could see the tears as they welled in his eyes.  Jindra broke his hold on her hand and reached up to touch his face.  

                Jindra remained silent as she gazed into his eyes.  The moment was broken however by a male voice nearby.  "C'mon darlin' -- give'em another chance.  Can't ya see he's sorry for whatever it is he did?"  Startled, Folken and Jindra both looked around to see several people crowded nearby, apparently having witnessed Folken's heartfelt plea for forgiveness.  A female voice chimed in, "Don't let him off too easy though!"  Several other people shouted their own advice and encouragement.  "Kiss and make up!"  "Give the man another chance!"

                Folken found himself smiling and as he turned back towards Jindra he saw the blush that crept across her face.  "I'm sorry; I didn't know we had an audience."

                Jindra looked horrified, "I'm so embarrassed . . . I just want to crawl in a hole somewhere and die."  Folken laughed and she glared at him.  Taking her hand once again, he raised it to his lips, "We shouldn't disappoint such a supportive group."  He pressed the back of her hand with a gentle kiss.

                "Folken!"  Jindra snatched her hand away and once again he laughed.  Jindra's cheeks were quite pink and Folken smiled at her.  _She blushes so beautifully -- she'd probably box my ears if I said it though._  Several of the onlookers hooted and cheered.  _Time to close the curtain on this little show, I think..._

                Folken shifted until he was on one knee in front of Jindra.  She gave him a puzzled look as he once more reached for her hand, "Folken -- what are you doing?"

                He took a breath and looked at her; his face was calm, but his voice shook a little.  "I want to be with you, Jindra.  I don't care if it's here, or Palas, or anywhere else that you want to go -- just name it; and if I can get you there, then I will.  I want us to be together -- I don't ever want to be apart from you again.  I love you so much . . . I want to spend the rest of my life loving you . . . raising a family with you . . . growing old with you.  I know that I asked you once before . . . but I have to know that you still want me."  Folken looked intently into her face as he swallowed to clear his throat.  "Will you marry me, Jindra Roh?  Will you give me the honor of being my wife?"

                There was a hushed silence as the onlookers eagerly waited for the reply.  Jindra looked down at their joined hands but remained silent for several long moments.  One of the less patient members of the small crowd spoke out, "C'mon already!  We haven't got all day!"  The man was quickly hushed by several other members of the waiting group.

                Jindra looked up at Folken.  Her eyes were bright and she gave him that coy little smile that she knew he loved.  "How could I possibly refuse you now?  I don't think this mob would let me walk out of here alive if I said no."  Breaking his grip on her hand, she put her arms around his neck and drew his face down towards hers.  "I'd be honored to be your wife, Folken.  Now kiss me before there's a riot."  As their lips met, a loud cheer went up from the watching crowd.

                As the couple kissed, Folken slowly raised himself up off the ground, pulling Jindra with him.  Once the two were standing, Folken tightened his arms around Jindra and suddenly swung her up off the ground.  The kiss came to an abrupt end as Folken swung Jindra around in a circle, laughing as he did so.  Jindra smiled and laughed with him as the small group onlookers cheered louder and converged on the couple, offering their congratulations and best wishes.

                Folken felt as if his heart would burst from the sheer joy of the moment.  As he looked at Jindra, he felt tears in his eyes and he hastily brushed them away with his hand.  Jindra looked over at him and smiled.  He noticed the glitter of tears in her eyes and he gave her a reassuring smile.  Jindra mouthed "I love you" silently.  Folken winked at her and shouted back, "What else is new?"  He laughed as she arched her eyebrow at him.  

                _Finally . . . finally something is going right in my life.  This was the easy part -- getting Jin to forgive me.  Now all I have to do is get free of Dornkirk and the sorcerers -- I'd sooner rot in the darkest pit of the nine hells then spend the rest of my life in that twisted black tower._


	39. Chapter ThirtyNine

THIRTY-NINE

                ". . . then we can get another ship to Asturia.  I know it seems like we're going out of our way, but it'll make it that much harder for anyone to figure out where we've gone."

                "I don't understand why we can't just go straight to Palas."

                Jindra and Folken were seated at a small booth in the back of the tavern, the dishes from their finished lunch had been pushed to one side of the table;  the couple were in the midst of making their plans to leave Zaibach.  Jindra had torn a piece of paper from one of her sketch pads and given it to Folken with a pencil so that he could take a few notes.

                "Jin, we've been over this before . . . I just don't want to take any chances once we leave the city.   If we go to -- say Basram first, then it will throw off our trail a bit."  Folken replied with a slight bit of exasperation in his voice.

                "You're talking about the sor -- the tower, aren't you?  You think that they're going to come after us."

                Folken nodded his head, "It's a possibility . . . he's not going to be too happy once he learns that I've gone."  Jindra knew who Folken met by "he" -- Dornkirk.  "I just don't want to put you in any danger, Jin.  I think it'll be better if we don't go straight to Palas -- if we skip around a little."  Folken gave her a reassuring smile, "I'm probably being overly cautious, but it wouldn't hurt to be one step ahead just in case."  Jindra didn't look happy, but she nodded her head in agreement.

                Tapping the pencil on his chin, Folken gave her a thoughtful look, "Well, if that's all settled . . . now comes the hard part -- paying for this little jaunt of ours."

                As an apprentice of the sorcerer's tower, Folken was given room and board.  He was also provided with basic clothing -- the standard robes that all students and sorcerers wore; as well as textbooks, writing paper and implements, and other basic supplies for his studies.  More importantly however, he was also given a small monthly stipend to use on things that were not supplied by the tower.  He knew that many of the other students used the money for what could be considered as less-than scholarly pursuits -- liquor, gambling and even women.  While such things were generally frowned upon, they were tolerated as long as they were done discreetly and did not interfere with the individual's work.   Folken knew of several students, and even full-fledged sorcerers, who kept women in the city for such purposes. 

                Folken, however, used his meager funds to purchase a couple of sets of plain, but well-made clothes that he could wear outside of the tower; he had learned quickly that first year in Zaibach how unwise it was to walk the streets of the city wearing his apprentice robes.  Occasionally he indulged himself by purchasing a few books -- solely for pleasure reading; and one or two small gifts for Jindra.  Although he wasn't well-off by any means, Folken had managed to save a tidy little sum that should cover their travel and, if they were very careful, perhaps one or two weeks at a modest inn.  What still worried him, however, was what they were going to do after that.  Bethanne Barrant's offer popped into his mind, but Folken was still reluctant to accept help from Jindra's family.  Despite what the woman had said, he wasn't sure that she would be as willing to help them once Jindra's parents found out that their daughter had left Zaibach with him.  _I don't want count on her, but just in case . . . at least we'll have a back up if we need it._

                He watched Jindra pull open her ever-present black bag.  "Hopefully this will help a little."  She lifted out a small leather bag.  Reaching across the table, she placed it in front of him.  It hit the wooden table with an audible clink.

                Folken lifted up the bag, feeling its weight.  "Gods, Jin -- how much is in here?"

                She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know -- I've been saving it for a while . . . do you think it will help?"

                "I'd say so -- but where did you get all this?"  He set the bag down and picked up the half-empty mug of ale next to him and took a sip.

                Jindra shrugged her shoulders once more, "From my father."  Folken almost choked.  "Y-y-your . . . f-f-father?" he managed to sputter out.  Jindra nodded at him, a concerned look on her face.  "Are you alright?  Do you need some water?"  Folken shook his head and swallowed several times, trying to clear his throat.  "J-J-Jin!  Why would your father give you this kind of money?"

                "He always gives me money.  Whenever I want something, I just ask him for it."  She gave him a puzzled look, "Where did you think I got my money from, Folken?"

                "I-I-I don't know . . . I guess I never really thought about it.  Surely you didn't ask him for all of this?"

                Jindra shook her and tried to explain, "I get -- I guess you could call it an allowance -- every week . . . you know, pocket money -- for art supplies, books . . . whatever I want to spend it on.  But I don't usually spend all of it.  For the past year or so, I've been saving up the leftover money each week -- I have this big jar -- and I put all the spare change into it."  She hesitated slightly, "It was supposed to be for my move to Palas -- to the university."  

                Folken knew how much Jindra had once wanted to attend the university in Palas -- when the two had first met, it had been her fondest wish.  But since they had been together as a couple, she had barely even spoken of it -- Folken knew that it was because of him that she hadn't left before and it saddened him to think that her dream might never come true now.

                Folken reached across the table and took Jindra's hand, "I know how much the university meant to you, Jin.  I-I-I know that you gave up those plans for me -- but this is your money . . . for your dream . . ."

                "I have a different dream now Folken."  Jindra said gently.  "A dream of spending the rest of my life with you -- and we are going to Palas after all -- so it's almost what I planned."  She gave him a small smile, "Who knows, maybe I'll get my chance at the university yet . . . after we're settled . . ."  

                Folken nodded his head slightly, "We'll see . . ." After a few silent moments, he let go of her hand and picked up the pencil again.  "Well my lady, you seem to have our financial worries covered for the moment . . . so, our next order of business is . . ." The couple continued with their plans as the busy lunch crowd thinned out.

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                Marco Dimetra sat quietly nursing his mug of ale in the far corner of the tavern.  His attention however, was repeatedly drawn to the young couple on the opposite end of the common room.  Marco had been quiet surprised to see Folken Lacour enter the tavern, even more so when his fellow apprentice appeared to be in the company of young woman.    The two were seated in a booth towards the back of the common room with the girl facing towards Marco.  Discreetly Marco observed her:  she was probably about the same age as Lacour and she had reddish hair that barely touched her shoulders.  She was not what Marco would have considered to be beautiful, but she was an attractive girl.  She was not very tall, Lacour probably towered over her by half a foot at least; her clothing was well cut, but rather plain; and she had the most amazing eyes that Marco had ever seen.  He was quite intrigued and wondered what she might be doing with Folken Lacour; she did not look at all like one of the paid women that were likely to be in the company of a sorcerer.  As he watched her, Marco could tell that she was more than just an acquaintance of Lacour's.  There was something in her smile, in the way she looked at the man opposite her while she spoke; and once or twice she reached across the table and touched Folken's hand.  _Yes, definitely more than a friend . . . but who is she? _  Settling himself in the corner of his own booth, Marco watched -- and wondered.

                When the two had finished their lunch, they pushed the dishes to one side and then the girl opened up a black bag and took out a pad of paper.  _Drawing paper?_  Tearing out a sheet she had handed it across the table to Lacour.  The two appeared to be talking quite intently and Marco found himself wishing he was a fly on the wall near their table.    Once, Folken's voice rose and Marco thought that he heard what sounded like "Jin."

                _Her name?__  Jin -- now why does that ring a bell?  _Marco turned the word over in his mind._  Jin . . . drawing paper . . . that's it!  The drawing in Lacour's room -- that was the name on the bottom of the drawing.  But didn't he say he bought it in a shop?  Come to think of it, he didn't seem to like me admiring I either.  A little jealous perhaps?  Lacour has a woman . . . wonder of wonders.  Not just any woman from the look of things . . . this could be quite interesting. _ Smiling to himself, Marco Dimetra pulled some coins from his pocket, left them on the table top and slid out of the tavern unseen.

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                Folken folded the sheet of paper into quarters and put it in the pocket of his coat.  Picking up the mug next to him, he quickly drained the last of the lukewarm ale.  He toyed with the earthenware cup in his hands as his eyes glanced at Jindra.  Setting his mug back down on the table, Folken reached across the table and took her hand.  "Jin, don't get mad at me . . . but -- I need . . . I need to ask you something."  She looked at him, her eyes puzzled from the tone in his voice.  "Are -- are you sure . . . are you sure this is what you want?  Before we do this -- before we leave here -- I have to know that this is truly what you want."

                Jindra shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh.  "Folken, how many times are you going to ask me the same thing?"

                "Jin, this is serious.  Are you sure you can leave your parents behind?  I don't want you to be unhappy and homesick.  Once we leave here, we probably won't be able to come back -- or at least I won't be able to."

                She gave him a long look before she spoke.  "I'm not that naive you know -- this has nothing to do with my family, Folken.  Even if my parents gave us their blessing, I know that we would still have to leave here.  The sor -- the tower would never allow us to marry.  This is the only choice we have.  I know that you're only trying to protect me -- to keep me safe.  But I want to be with you Folken . . . I want to be your wife -- the mother of your children . . . the thorn in your side for all eternity," she smiled at him, "and the only way for me to do that is to leave here."

                 She pulled her hand from his and rubbed her hands over her eyes as if she were weary.  "I love you Folken Fanel and where you go, I go.  I won't lie and tell you that I don't care about my parents or that I won't miss them -- because I will.  But it's not like I won't ever see them again.  Even if we can't come back here – they could still come to Palas."  Jindra dropped her eyes and looked down at the tabletop; her fingers tracing unseen circles across the wooden surface.  "I know this is going to hurt them . . . but they'll forgive me -- eventually."  She looked up at Folken, "My father once told me that he could forgive me anything -- because I was his daughter and he loved me.  I'm counting on that Folken -- my father has never lied to me."  Jindra reached for Folken's hand, her thumb brushing across his knuckles.  "I've never been surer about anything in my whole life -- this is what I want."

                Folken saw the honesty and love in her eyes as she looked at him.  Raising their joined hands, Folken kissed the back of hers.  "I was hoping you would say that."  There was wistfulness in his tone and Jindra raised her eyebrow at him.  Folken smiled at the expression on her face, "Oh, by the way . . . did I mention that before we leave the city, I want to marry you?  I want us to be legally married when we leave her Jin . . . what do you say?  Want to get married -- say, in the next week or two?"

                Jindra's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, "F-Folken . . . I-I-I . . ." She stammered out and then vigorously nodded her head.

                Letting go of Jindra's hand, Folken rose and then slid into seat next to her.  "I'll take that as a yes."  Stroking her cheek with his left hand, he brushed a light kiss across her lips.  "You have the sweetest blush I've ever seen on a woman; have I ever told you that?"  Smiling at Jindra once again, Folken clasped her hand.  "Guess we don't have to worry about you not being a blushing bride, now do we?"

                Jindra kicked him under the table, "Ow!  I must say my lady; you've got quite a temper."  Letting go of her hand, he brought both of us up to cup her face, "A fiery temper to match the fire in those beautiful eyes.  Guess I'll just have to smother that fire with a few kisses"  Chuckling, he bent his head and their lips met.

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                As Folken helped Jindra up into the coach, he kept hold of her hand, "I'll arrange everything with the registrar's office; if you think of anything else, just leave me a note at the bookshop."  Pulling her towards him, he kissed her, "I love you."

                Jindra reached out and stroked his cheek, "What else is new?"  She smiled at him and he laughed.  With a quick kiss on the back of her hand, he released her and closed the door of the coach.  Jindra blew him a kiss as the cab started away.  Folken watched the coach until it turned the corner; smiling he shook his head.  _Gods, if only everyone else could be as happy as I am right now . . ._

                "Well Folken, you certainly are a dark horse."


	40. Chapter Forty

FORTY

                Folken spun around to see Marco Dimetra propped against the corner of the tavern.  "She's a pretty one -- and apparently quite fond of you too."  Marco pushed himself away from the wall and stepped towards Folken.  "What more could a man ask for?"

                The worst of all Folken's fears flashed though his mind as he faced the other man.  "M-M-Marco -- what the hell do you think you're doing?"  

                "I think I should be the one asking that question, don't you."

                "What are you -- spying on me?  Did they send you to spy on me?"

                Marco put up his hands, palms out, in supplication.  "Whoa!  Slow down, Folken -- I'm not spying on you.  I just happened to be in the tavern when you and your . . . friend came in.  I couldn't help noticing the two of you together.  I was just curious -- that's all.  Don't get all bent out of shape."

                Folken narrowed his eyes, "What do you want, Marco?"

                "Nothing -- like I said, I was just curious."  He gave Folken a smile, "Now I know why you kept disappearing all the time."

                "What is it that you want, Marco?"  There was an edge in Folken's voice that made the other man step back.

                "Look Folken, I know you're still mad at me -- but I didn't have any choice.  Juri made me swear -- on my oath of the tower -- not to tell you.  What was I supposed to do?  I'm only an apprentice -- and I have no desire to get on Juri's bad side."  Folken said nothing, his eyes cold as he listened.  "I'm sorry, Folken -- but I really didn't have any choice . . . I know the man was your friend -- but I couldn't break my oath."  

                Folken's anger softened a little as he looked at his former friend.  _Friend?  Is it possible to have a friend in the tower?  Marco was probably the closet thing to one that I had -- I don't know if I would have been able to go against my oath either had I been in his place.  I want to trust someone -- I need to trust someone . . . but is Marco the right one?_  Folken gave the dark-haired man a measured look, as if summing him up.  _There's only one way to find out . . ._

"I know you were only following orders, Marco; and besides, why risk yourself on my behalf?  I know how things work in the tower -- it's every man for himself, you had your own future to think about."  

                "That's pretty harsh Folken.  Y-Y-You and I were mates once . . . we got on alright . . . do you think I wanted to lie to you?  Do you know how much I wanted to tell you -- how many times I almost did?"

                "Then why didn't you?  I never would have betrayed you."

                "Because I couldn't!  Look Folken -- the tower is all I have . . .  I don't have anywhere else to go."  Marco reached up and ran his hand through his dark curly hair.  "I don't have any family -- I was an only child, both of my parents died when I was quite young.  I've been here for over ten years -- ten years and I'm still only an apprentice.   B-B-But I couldn't risk being put out . . . or worse.  Maybe I was wrong, but it was the only thing I could do."

                Folken knew that Marco was being truthful and he could see that it had cost the other man a lot to confess so much to him.  _But can I trust him?  He knew about my friendship with Coren and he could have used that against me somehow -- used it to his advantage.  That morning when he came to my room -- when I first heard about the accident -- I could see that he wanted to tell me something, but he didn't -- or couldn't.   I just wish I knew for sure . . ._

                Folken sighed and gave Marco another long look.  _I won't know unless I try. . ._ "I know you didn't have any choice, Marco.  I'm not sure if I could have betrayed my oath either.  But it's all over and done with -- time to move on.  Coren Roh was my friend -- and he would have been my brother-in-law, but I can't go back and change the past." Folken saw Marco's eyes widen.  _Too late to turn back now. _ "All I can do now is mourn him and remember him."

                "B-B-Brother -- what did you just say?"  Marco stammered an extremely puzzled look on his face.

                "That girl that I was just with -- her name is Jindra Roh, she's Coren's sister.  She and I are going to be married in a few weeks -- she has agreed to be my wife."

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                Jindra sat on the bench in the small white gazebo in her family's garden.  She was busy working on a sketch of a small bird fountain several feet away when her father joined her.  Erich dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head before sitting down next to her.  She glanced up at him and smiled, "Just let me finish this little bit . . ." Erich watched his daughter as she worked, once again marveling at her talent.

                Since his son's death, Erich Roh had made a personal pledge to become closer to his daughter.  It was no secret that Jindra had always been his favorite, and he had doted on her excessively when she was younger.  But as she grew up, the two had drifted apart.  Partly because of Erich's increased responsibilities within the trade office -- responsibilities that had caused him to be away from the city and his family for extended periods of time.  But in the last two months, Erich had made a commitment to re-establish his relationship with his daughter.   He had not traveled outside the empire, instead sending one of his aides in his place; he tried to be home for dinner each evening; and he also made time everyday to be with Jindra -- sometimes meeting her for lunch or spending time with her before or after dinner.  He had been worried about her over the past two months as she had seemed quite depressed and despondent.  But in the past couple of weeks, Erich had noticed that Jindra had brightened and her normal countenance had started to return.  He was afraid to ask her why, sure that he would not like the answer.  Erich knew of only one reason -- or more likely, one person -- who could have brought such a change to his daughter; and although he was grateful to have Jindra back as she was before, he could find no joy in knowing who was responsible for it.

                "You're home early."  Jindra put her sketch pad down on the bench next to her.

                "Slow day -- I didn't have any appointments or other pressing business this afternoon, so I decided to leave for the day."

                "Mother and Bethanne went with Mrs. Kaberle.  Something about having tea with . . . I forget the name -- Mrs. San-something."

                "Weren't you invited?"  Erich inquired.

                His daughter shrugged, "Tea with a bunch of people that I don't have the slightest interest in knowing?  Thanks, but I'll pass."

                "Jindra," she could hear the lecturing tone in her father's voice and inwardly she groaned.  "I thought that your mother and I raised you with better manners.  It's was very gracious of Mrs. Sandersson to include you in the invitation.   How can you dismiss them without even meeting them -- I can't believe that a daughter of mine could be so rude."

                Jindra colored and dropped her eyes to the ground, "I-I-I'm sorry, father.  But I -- I just wasn't comfortable with going.  I-I-I'm not one for tea parties -- you know that.  Getting all dressed up, sitting around smiling and making mindless small talk all afternoon -- I think I'd rather have a bucket of rancid milk poured over my head, at least that would be interesting."

                Erich shook his head, "Love . . . you only do yourself a disservice by being so aloof and unfriendly.  You should be out; enjoying yourself -- making new friends, doing new things -- you can't hide in the house forever.  How do you know you won't like something if you won't even try it?  I don't mean a half-hearted, I-really-don't-want-to-be-here try either."

                Jindra scuffed at the ground with the toe of her boot.  "Maybe you're right . . . it wouldn't hurt for me to get out and do something different once in a while . . . I'll try -- but I won't make any promises."  

                Her father reached out and squeezed her hand.  "So what were you working on so intently?"  Erich asked, deciding to let the matter drop for the moment.

                Jindra reached for her sketch pad, "Nothing really -- just the bird fountain."  Her father looked at the sketch, "It's very nice . . . I don't know where you got such talent.  No one in my family ever had any artistic abilities -- must be your mother's side; there are some interesting characters in the Vardas side of the tree."

                Jindra smiled up at her father, "You mean like great-uncle Matthias?  You know, grandfather Yellan's brother who went searching for mermaids?"

                Erich laughed, "Old Matthias -- gods, I almost forgot about him.  Claimed he discovered an underwater city that was full of mermaids and mermen -- of course he didn't have any charts or directions written down and no way to prove any of it . . . "He laughed again, "What about your cousin, Stefan -- the self-proclaimed poet?  Traveling all over Asturia -- playing at being a traveling bard . . . oh yes, the Vardas' are quite an entertaining group of people -- never a dull moment when one or two of them are around."

                "Sometimes I envy people that just do what they want and don't care about what other people think of them.  As long as you're happy and you don't hurt anyone, then why does it matter?" Jindra replied, sounding a bit more serious then before.

                "You're right love, there's nothing wrong with being your own person; but sometimes you have to bow to the dictates of society -- something a few of your more colorful relatives haven't quite learned yet."  Jindra merely nodded her head, but did not reply.

                Father and daughter sat together in silence for a few minutes, both of them looking out into the garden.  Jindra had picked up her pencil and was just about to resume her sketching when Erich spoke again.  "Jindra . . . have you seen Anton Lefebvre lately?"  

                Jindra looked up, hearing a strange note in her father's voice.  "Now that you mention it, no.  I don't think he's been here in -- I don't know, maybe two weeks.  Why?"

                Erich didn't answer right away, his eyes still focused on the fountain.  After a few moments, he turned to look at her.  "I saw Commandant Varada earlier today.  He seemed a bit concerned about him -- asked if I had seen him of late.  I told him no, but was curious about why he wanted to know.  Varada told me that Anton had been dismissed from the academy -- almost three weeks ago."

                "Dismissed -- Anton?  Are you sure, father?"

                "Yes, Varada told me that he did personally.  I could see that he was still bothered by it."

                "But why?  What could he have done that would have caused his dismissal?"

                "Apparently Anton had been drinking -- quite heavily -- on campus.  Varada said that he had been reported being drunk in several of his classes -- more than once.   His studies had fallen off -- and his grades too.  Anton had also become verbally and physically abusive with several other cadets -- to the point where fights had to be broken up once or twice a day.  His behavior had become erratic and possibly dangerous.  Varada said that he had no choice but to expel him."

                Jindra shook her head, "I can't believe it, the academy meant everything to him -- he told me so, more than once.  I-I-I know he took Coren's death very hard -- the two of them were closer friends then I thought -- and I know he hasn't really been himself . . . but I can't believe he would go so far as to get himself dismissed."  Even as she spoke, Jindra recalled the several occasions when Anton had strongly smelled of wine while visiting her; and the marked change in his appearance.  "It's just -- unbelievable."

                "Yes, especially since Varada told me that Anton's father was deeply in debt -- gambling, apparently -- and that it had taken almost all of what the family had left to pay for his tuition at the academy."

                Jindra felt a sadness in her heart and some of it leaked out in her voice, "Anton told me that he and his father were estranged -- but he never said why."

                "I don't imagine that he would.  Things had gotten so bad at one point, that the Lefebvre's were almost put out of their house.  The family was counting on Anton's salary once he graduated and received his commission. "Erich shook his head, "It's a damn shame -- Anton certainly didn't deserve such a burden to bear.  The man was always the perfect guest when he was here -- I was quite impressed with him from the very first."  Erich looked curiously at Jindra, "Your mother and I had hoped that the two of you would hit it off -- he certainly seemed to be quite interested in you."

                Jindra felt a slight blush creep across her face and she looked away.  "Anton and I are just friends -- its better that way."  After a few moments, she turned back towards her father.  "It's just so completely unbelievable.  I wonder where he is -- if he left the city and returned home."

                Erich shook his head, "I don't know, Varada didn't say."  He looked thoughtful for a moment, "If he should come here, will you let me know."  Jindra nodded her head, "Yes, of course; but why?"

                "If his behavior is as erratic as the commandant said, Anton could be dangerous -- especially if he's been drinking."

                "Anton wouldn't hurt me," she protested.

                "Perhaps not, love; but if he is in such a state, there's no telling what he could be capable of.  But it's not just that . . . I really liked the man and I'd like to try to help him if I can, maybe try to get him get him reinstated -- if he gets himself together first.  Anton shouldn't be made to pay for his father's mistakes and bad judgment.  Your brother always seemed to hold him in high esteem and I know that Coren would have tried to help him if he could."

                Jindra nodded silently and once again the two sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts.  After a few minutes, the silence was broken by the sound of Doreena Roh calling out her husband's name.  Rising, Erich returned the call and then dropped a quick kiss on Jindra's head.  Leaving her in the gazebo, he started back towards the house.

                Her sketch completely forgotten, Jindra stared out at nothing as she thought about what had befallen Anton Lefebvre; and if she could have prevented it somehow.

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                "Folken, you're insane!  You can't marry her -- or anyone else for that matter."  Marco paced the length of Folken's front room while he spoke.

                The two men had returned to the sorcerer's tower and retired to Folken's quarters.  Once there, Folken had sat calmly and told Marco about Jindra.  It had scared him immensely to do so; but after he finished, he had felt as if a great burden had been lifted from him.  Folken had held his feelings inside for so long, that he felt completely drained afterwards.  He could understand why Jindra had sought out Bethanne and taken her into her confidence.  He was taking a great chance by putting his trust in Marco, but it was something that he had needed to do.

                Marco ran his hand though his hair, "You don't owe her any obligation.  Coren Roh was your friend, but that doesn't mean you have to marry his sister out of some misplaced sense of loyalty."

                "It's not like that -- I told you, I asked Jin to marry me before Coren died."  Folken got up from the chair and went to the small sideboard.  Reaching for a glass, he poured himself some wine.  Gesturing towards Marco with the bottle, the other man nodded his head.  After handing a glass to Marco, Folken returned to his seat. 

                Marco gave Folken a long look as he sipped from his glass.  With a sigh, he sat down in the chair opposite him.  "Why do you have to marry her anyway?  You could just keep her here -- in the city . . . find a nice little place somewhere . . . no one would care, it's done all the time."

                Folken's voice rose angrily, "Damn it Marco -- she's not some common streetwalker!"

                "I didn't say she was.  I'm just saying that it would be the easiest -- and safest solution.  If the two of you have already -- already . . . well, you know . . .  if you've already been together then what's the difference?" He gave Folken a sharp look, "She's not pregnant is she?"

                For the second time that day, Folken almost choked.  "N-N-No!"  He suddenly felt guilty, for the thought that Jindra could be carrying his child had not entered his mind.  _But Jin would know by now . . . she would have told me -- wouldn't she . . . of course she would.  _

                Marco saw something flash momentarily across in Folken's face, "You don't know -- do you?"

                Folken vehemently denied it, "Of course I do.  Jindra would have told me -- she would never keep something like that from me."  _Gods, the risk we took that night . . . _

                Marco took another sip from his glass.  "Do you know what will happen to you -- and her -- if anyone were to find out about this?  I can't believe you'd even consider it -- you won't be able to keep it a secret; someone is bound to find out."

                "By the time anyone figures it out, we'll be long gone from here -- never to return, if I have my way."  Folken took a long pull from his own glass.  "We're going to get married, before we leave -- in fact, that's was one of things we were planning today in the tavern when you saw us together."

                Marco slumped in his chair and stretched his legs out as he took another sip from his glass.   He gave Folken a measured look.  "Aren't you afraid that I'll turn you in?  How do you know I'm not going to run straight to Juri when I leave here and tell him everything?"

                Folken returned his piercing look, "I don't . . . but I'm willing to take that chance."  Folken's stomach was in a knot but he managed to keep his voice calm and steady.  "I'm risking everything by putting my trust in you . . . my life -- and Jindra's -- are in your hands Marco."

                Marco was silent for several moments as he sat twirling his wine glass in his hands.  Quickly raising the glass to his lips, he drained it and then slowly put it on the table between the two chairs.  Looking at Folken's calm face, he sighed.  "You're crazy -- you have to be . . . that makes two of us, I guess."  A wide smile spread over Marco's face, "So, why don't you tell me more about your plans and we'll see if there's some way I can help you and your pretty little lady out."

                Folken felt a rush of relief,_ maybe this is going to all work out after all . . ._


	41. Chapter FortyOne

FORTY-ONE

                Jindra was browsing among the shelves of the Marchment bookshop when an unfamiliar voice spoke behind her.  "Excuse me -- Miss Roh?"  She turned to find a dark-haired man with long shaggy curls looking expectantly at her.

                "Y-Y-Yes, I'm Jindra Roh."

                "I-I-I'm . . . my name is Marco -- Marco Dimetra."  He stuttered a little and blushed.__

                Jindra raised her brow in annoyance as the man stared at her.  "Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

                "A-A-A friend of mine said that I would find you here.  He asked me to give you a message."  Reaching into a pocket of his coat, he brought out an envelope and handed it to her.   Jindra's name was written across the front in a slanted scrawl that she knew quite well.  Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at the dark-haired man.  "Who are you?  Where did you get this?"

                "As I told you, my name is Marco Dimetra -- and I think you know who gave this to me."  He gestured to the handwriting on the envelope.  "If you would read the note inside, I think that most of your questions will be answered."  The man glanced around the shop, "Is there somewhere we can go?  Somewhere with a bit more privacy?"  He saw her hesitate, "I assure you, I mean you no harm."  Marco could see that she was still wavering, "He trusted me to bring this to you -- the note will explain everything, I promise."

                Jindra gave him a long look and then nodded her head.  "We -- we can use one of the reading rooms.  Let me see if there is one available."  She turned away and Marco watched her approach an elderly woman shelving books across the next aisle.  The older woman looked up at Marco, her eyebrow raised.  After a few moments, Jindra turned to Marco and motioned for him to follow her.

                Closing the door behind him, Marco followed Jindra to the small table in the room.  He waited until she sat down before taking a seat.  Jindra looked at him for a few moments, as if studying him and then turned her attention to the envelope in her hand.  Breaking open the wax seal, she took out the folded sheet within.  Smoothing out the paper, she began to read.

                Jindra read the note three times, her eyes going up to Marco's face several times before returning back to the sheet in her hand.  Finally putting the note on the table in front of her, she looked thoughtful for several minutes as she considered what Folken had written.  Her gaze returned once again to the dark-haired man across from her.   _How do I know he is who he said he was?  He could be anyone . . . how do I know that he's really Marco Dimetra? _ Jindra thought about the description of Marco that Folken had written.  _The envelope was still sealed . . . but how do I know he didn't open it somehow and read it?_

                Her voice was cool despite the nervousness that she felt inside.  "How do I know you're really Marco Dimetra?"

                He didn't seem surprised by the question.  "Folken described me, didn't he?"  She nodded her head.  "I also know that you carry something that he gave you -- a crystal?"  Jindra made no response; non-plussed, Marco continued.  "Four days ago, you had lunch with him at the Northgate Tavern."  Once again, she made no response.  Marco sighed, "You're not going to make this easy, are you?  Look, I understand that you're just trying to be careful -- and I would be too if I was you -- but I don't know what else to do to prove who I am."  

                He ran a hand through his hair, "Folken has something that you gave him -- a drawing, a drawing of Palas; I know because I've seen it."   Jindra nodded her head.  He gave her a small smile, "Satisfied?"

                Jindra raised her brow at him once again.  "Maybe -- maybe not; although you seem pretty sure of yourself."  She gave him a measured look, "You're from -- from the tower?"

                Marco nodded his head, "I'm an apprentice there -- like Folken; we've been mates for a while."

                "He never mentioned you before."

                He blushed a little, "Well . . . uh . . . uh . . . he didn't mention you to me either until a few days ago. I-I-I saw the two of you together in the tavern -- and -- and kind of surprised him after you left.  H-H-He told me about you . . . like I said, we're mates -- and well, here I am -- ready and willing to help the course of true love."  He gave her a wide smile. 

                Jindra didn't return his smile.  She gestured towards the letter on the table, "Folken said that you're going to help arrange for our passage on a levi-ship; and with setting up the appointment at the registrar's office."

                "Yes . . . after Folken told me what the two of you were planning -- I offered to help in any way that I could.  They don't like it when he leaves the tower -- especially since he disappeared for those two days." Marco saw the faint blush that crept across Jindra's face as she looked down at her hands on the table.  "No one really cares where I am most of the time -- it's easier for me to be out and about -- making the arrangements."

                Jindra looked back up at his face, "Folken seems to have put an awful lot of trust in you -- I wonder why."  Marco watched as her eyes seemed to darken into a cold, steely gray.  "What game are you playing at Master Dimetra?"

                Marco felt himself growing uncomfortable under Jindra's piercing gaze.  "Like I said, he and I are friends -- well maybe not true friends -- but the closest thing to friends that we could ever be in the tower.  I-I-I saw the two of you in the tavern and I was curious -- I could see that you were more than just friendly acquaintances."  He nervously ran his hand through his hair, "I-I-I thought I'd just tease Folken a little -- but when . . . when I confronted him about you, he -- he looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach.  He went all pale and I could see that he was afraid -- and angry.  He-he- told me who you were and that -- that you and he were going to get married.  H-H-He told me everything;" Marco saw the pink that stained her cheeks, "well, maybe not everything -- but enough."

                "From what Folken has told me about the tower, I find it hard to believe that he would just blurt out something so -- so important.  I'm not some stupid girl Master Dimetra, Folken would never have told anyone -- much less a sorcerer -- about us or what we were planning to do."

                Marco looked at her for a few moments before he spoke again.  "Folken could have lied to me, you know.  He could have said that you were just some tart he picked up in the street or something -- but I think . . . I think that he really wanted -- no, that he really needed to tell me -- and if not me, then someone."  Jindra saw a kindness in Marco's eyes that she didn't expect, "You should have seen him when he finished -- he looked like a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders . . . I don't know how long he kept all that inside -- but I could see that he was relieved to finally be able to tell someone."

                Jindra squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath as she wrapped her arms around herself.  She regarded Marco for several minutes as she thought about what he had told her.  "You must be his Bethanne," she said softly, as if to herself.  Looking at him, she saw the puzzled look that he gave her, "Never mind, it would take too long to explain."  Unwrapping her arms and placing them on the table in front of her, she continued.  "Why -- why are you doing this?  Why would you risk yourself to help us?"

                Once again, Marco didn't seem surprised by the question.  "Because I can . . . and because I owe Folken.  But mostly because he doesn't belong in the tower, Miss Roh."  He saw Jindra's eyes widen at his words.  "He tries so hard to be a part of that place -- to be what they expect him to be . . . but it isn't in his nature.  Folken doesn't have it in him to be so cold, so unattached and unfeeling -- that's his problem, he feels everything too much.  But the longer he stays here, the deeper they dig their claws into him.  Eventually they will break him -- and when that happens, Folken Lacour won't be anyone that you will ever recognize again."

                Marco looked away from Jindra for a few moments; his voice was soft when he spoke again.  "I-I-I don't have much of reputation in the tower, Miss Roh.  I've been an apprentice for over ten years -- something of a record, I'm told.  I'm not known for being overly bright and I do just enough work to get by -- traits that certainly haven't endeared me to my peers.  But Folken, he -- he never treated me like I was inferior or stupid; he always treated me like an equal -- sometimes even better than that.  In a way I'm glad that it was me he spilled all of this to, now I can try to repay him for the respect that he gave me."  He swallowed several times before continuing.  "It might not seem like something worth risking yourself for -- but to me -- to someone who never experienced anything like that before -- it meant more than just mere words could convey."

                Marco looked at her, his eyes steady on her face.  "I owe Folken -- I owe him for his respect, his friendship -- and especially for putting his trust in me.  It took a great deal of courage for him to tell me about all of this -- more than I would have ever had."  He gave her a small smile, "He loves you a great deal, you know . . . I just hope that you appreciate everything he's been through for you."

                Jindra swallowed quickly and nodded her head.  "He always says that he's not worthy of me -- but I think it's the other way around."  She favored Marco with a small smile, "Believe me, I plan on spending the rest of my life showing Folken Lacour just how much I appreciate him."

                Marco smiled back at her and ran his hand through is hair once again as he slumped down a little in his chair.  "So Miss Roh, have you picked a date yet?"  Jindra gave him a puzzled look.  "Folken asked me to get the date so I could start making the arrangements."  Jindra shook her head, still puzzled as to what he was asking of her.  Marco tried again, speaking slowly.  "The - date - for - your - wedding?  Your - fiancé - would - like - to - know - when - you - would - like - to -get - married."

                "I know what you meant, Master Dimetra."  Jindra tried to glare at him, but she spoiled the effect by smiling as she tried not to laugh instead.

                Marco tried to act serious, but tone of his voice was very light, "Of course you do; all women know everything -- I learned that long ago."  He gave her a wry smile, "All this Master Dimetra stuff is making me feel positively ancient, please call me Marco."

                Jindra smiled back, "I much prefer Jindra to Miss Roh myself."

                "Not Jin?"

                She shook her head, "Coren -- my brother -- used to call me Jin, and Folken kind of picked up the habit."

                "Well, I wouldn't want your fiancé to think that I was getting too friendly with you, so I'll stick to Jindra."  Marco said with a wink.  Straightening up in his chair, he put his hands in front of him on the table, "Speaking of your intended victim -- I mean fiancé -- have you decided on the date of execution -- I mean a date for the wedding?"

                Jindra arched her brow at him, "I don't find your attempt at humor to be at all amusing, _Master_ Dimetra."

                "I thought we were going to quit with the Master stuff, _Miss Roh_."

                Jindra laughed, unable to help herself.  "Truce?"  She put her hand out towards Marco.

                Marco took her hand, "Truce -- for poor old Folken's sake."

                Jindra took her hand back and smiled. _ I can't believe he did it . . . but Folken seems to have chosen well.  I'm really starting to believe that this is all going to work somehow . . ._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

                Anton Lefebvre stood, wrapped in a cloak despite the fine sunny day, on the corner across from the Marchment bookshop.  He had seen Jindra Roh enter the shop some time ago and had taken up his current post while he waited for her.  He had noticed the dark-haired man who followed her into the shop perhaps fifteen minutes later.  Anton's curiosity had been peaked to say the least; although he did not know the man personally, he knew who he was -- and what he was.  As all kinds of thoughts ran through his mind, Anton kept his silent vigil on the corner.


	42. Chapter FortyTwo

FORTY-TWO

                _He should be back by now -- what's taking him so long_?   Folken had long ago given up trying to get any work done.  Instead of reviewing the weapons schematics on the damaged guymelfs as Juri had instructed, he was instead pacing the length of his front room waiting for Marco Dimetra to return.  _Damn it -- why isn't he here yet?_  With a frustrated sigh, Folken threw himself down in the chair._  What if Jin wasn't at the shop -- what if he missed her?  Still, he should have been back by now.  C'mon Marco, where the hell are you?_

                As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, "Folken -- open up, it's me."

                Rising, Folken hurried to the door and pulled it open.  "Damn it Marco -- where the hell have you been?"  He grabbed the other man by the sleeve of his coat and pulled him into the room, slamming the door behind him.  "What took you so long?  I was starting to get worried.  Did you have any trouble?  Was she there -- did you talk to her?"

                "Slow down -- I can only answer one question at a time.  Gods, you'd think you were getting married or something."  Marco said with a mischievous grin as he sat down in one of the wingback chairs.  Folken took a seat across from him, "C'mon Marco, out with it -- did you see Jin -- did you get a chance to talk to her?"

                Purposely making his companion wait, Marco slumped down in the chair trying to get comfortable and put his legs out in front, crossing them at the ankles.  Folken made an exasperated sound in his throat, "Will you stop it!  Tell me what happened -- did you see her?"

                Marco gave him a rakish smile, "Oh yes, I had a rather nice chat with your very charming fiancé.  I spent the better part of our visit trying to convince her to leave you for me.  You know -- the worldly, older man instead of the brash, inexperienced youth."

                "Marco . . ." Folken's voice held a hint of warning.

                "Unfortunately, I was unable to sway her to my side -- for some odd reason; she kept insisting that she was in love with you." In a dramatic gesture, Marco put his hand over his heart, "And so I return, defeated and heartbroken."   Looking at Folken, he couldn't help laughing at the expression on the younger man's face.  "Oh lighten up man -- everything is just fine -- I met with the very lovely Miss Roh and am happy to say that the two of you should be happily and lawfully wed three weeks from tomorrow."

                Folken sat back in his chair, "Three weeks -- so soon?"

                "Oh, so now you're not in such a hurry anymore?  I didn't know you were so fickle."

                "Be serious Marco -- there's just so much that has to be done; three weeks isn't a lot of time."  Folken rose and walked to his work table.  Reaching for a blank sheet of paper and  a pencil, he started to write as he thought aloud, "Lets see . . . the registrar . . . some new clothes . . ."  he turned towards Marco, "I was thinking of having a new set of clothes made -- something a little more . . . formal.  What do you think?"

                "It's your wedding day Folken,  I guess you can wear whatever you want -- although I think Jindra would prefer you to look a little more . . . upscale for the event."

                Folken nodded his head and continued writing, "we've got that covered . . . now we need . . . and then  . . . the ship . . ." He turned back towards his companion, "We need to book passage on a ship . . ."

                Marco rose and joined Folken by the table, "Bad news there, I'm afraid.  The best I could find was a small Egzardian merchant ship -- but it won't be back through here for other four or five weeks."

                "Four or five weeks?  We can't wait that long -- I was hoping that we could leave the same day that we got married."

                "I'm sorry Folken, but that's the only ship that I could dig up that would be able to take on passengers here.  You forget, it's storm season in the mountains -- most traders don't like to come here during this time of the year, it's too risky.  If you were willing to go by horseback or overland in a merchant caravan, I might be able to set up something -- but ships at this time of the year are exceptionally hard."

                "Damn it, I knew this seemed too easy.  You're sure there was nothing else?"

                Marco shook his head, "I was all over the docks after I left Jindra at the shop.  I swear Folken; there isn't a ship to be had for at least another month."   He ran his hand through his dark curls, "I'm sure that Jindra will understand -- you said her family were merchants."

                Folken shook his head, "Her mother's family -- they're from Palas.  Her father was born here, in Zaibach."  Folken threw his pencil down on the table top.  "Why is it that nothing ever goes right what I need it to?  What are we supposed to do for two weeks, Marco?"  He snorted, "I get married and then have to wait another two weeks before I can be with my wife!  Jin is understanding, but even that is going to push her patience to the limit."

                "Oh, I don't know -- she seemed like a pretty level-headed young woman.  I'm sure that if you just explain the situation, she'll be alright.  There's nothing you can do about the weather . . ."

                "I know . . . it's just that we've waited so long -- I don't want to ask her to wait even longer."  Marco heard the defeated tone in Folken's voice, "Besides, once we're married, it won't take long for someone to find out about it -- it will be public record -- and then what?  How long before someone in the tower finds out -- before Dornkirk finds out?"

                "You could postpone the marriage for another two weeks."  Marco offered.  Folken shook his head, "No -- if I had my way, we'd be at the registrar's office tomorrow; Jin is the one that wanted to wait a few weeks.  Damn it all!  I can't believe it -- we're so close and now this . . ."

                "Two weeks isn't that long -- you'll just have to be very careful that's all."  Marco clapped the younger man on the back, "Don't give up yet -- if you want this badly enough, you'll make it work -- you can do it."

                There was a hint of strength and confidence in Folken's voice and stance, "Oh I want it -- I want it so bad that I can almost taste it.  I swear Marco, once we leave here -- I'm not letting go of Jindra Roh for a very, very long time -- you'll have to kill me to get me away from her side."

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                Anton Lefebvre watched the dark-haired sorcerer's apprentice leave the bookshop.  _Maybe I'm only being paranoid -- just because a sorcerer goes into a bookshop doesn't mean that he's there to meet Jindra.  But what if he was?  What could he, of all of them, want with her?_  Pondering that thought, Anton waited for Jindra to emerge.  After perhaps another fifteen or twenty minutes, Jindra at last left the shop and made her way down the street.  Quickly crossing the street, Anton followed her.  When the two had traveled for a few blocks, Anton called out to her.

                As Jindra turned at his voice, Anton saw the look of surprise on her face.  "Anton?  Gods -- where have you been?"  She retraced her steps and met the young man halfway.  "I've been so worried -- what happened to you?  Where have you been?  My father -- my father said . . ."

                Anton cut her off, "Apparently, good news travels fast."  Jindra heard the bitterness in his voice.   "Always nice to be the topic of hot gossip."

                "I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Anton.  My father really liked you -- he seemed upset when he found out you had been dismissed from the academy.  He-he knew that you and I were friends and he thought that I should know.  We weren't gossiping about you."  She didn't mean to be harsh with him, but she couldn't help it.

                Jindra took in Anton's appearance; his hair was pulled back but several long tendrils had escaped to hang along the sides of his face; there was a dark shadow of beard on his face -- he apparently had not shaved in several days; his clothes were plain and a bit rumpled; and his dark blue eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.  _It must be true -- he looks like someone who spent the better part of last night in a wine bottle.  Anton -- how could you have fallen so far?  What happened to make you like this?_

                Anton looked away from her, "I'm sorry Jindra, I didn't mean it to sound like that.  It's just that -- every time I see someone from the academy . . . I-I-I just can't stand the way they all look at me -- like I'm something they should pity."

                Jindra reached out and touched his arm.  "Anton, what happened?  Why were you expelled?  I know what my father said . . . but there has to be more to it than that.  I know how much the academy met to you -- how could you throw it all away like that?"

                He looked at her, his voice once again bitter.  "Is that what you think -- that I purposefully got myself expelled?"  Jindra dropped her eyes from his accusing stare.  "I won't deny that most of what happened was my own fault . . . but there were -- there were circumstances . . . circumstances that I had no control over."

                Jindra looked back up at him, "My -- my father . . . told me about your family.  He-he said . . ." Blushing, she broke off speaking.

                "That my family was penniless -- that my father gambled us into the poorhouse?"  Anton supplied for her in a hard voice.  Jindra once again dropped her eyes.  "Now you know why I hate him so much -- for what he did to us."

                He turned away so that Jindra could only see the profile of his face.  "Have you ever heard the expression 'Caught between a rock and a hard place' or 'Damned it you do, damned if you don't'?  That's been my life for the past few months, Jindra.  I could help my family and damn myself in the process; or I could do nothing and let them slip further down into despair and poverty."

                Jindra moved towards him and put her hand on his arm.  "What do you mean?  What did you do, Anton?"

                He turned to look at her and he placed his hand over hers.  "I did the only thing I could, Jindra.  I was offered a chance to clear my father's debts and restore my family's reputation.  It wasn't a very difficult decision -- until I had to fulfill my end of the bargain. . . "

                "What do you mean?  I don't understand . . ."

                Anton lifted his hand and pulled his arm away from her, "I-I-I made an agreement with someone.  An agreement that would ensure my family's future.  B-B-But I didn't stop to consider the consequences . . . and now it's too late . . ."

                Jindra thought she understood what he was trying to say, "Did you get yourself mixed up with moneylenders, Anton?"

                He laughed bitterly, "If only it were something that simple and harmless.  Moneylenders I could handle, Jindra -- my father owed quite a number of those too."  He shook his head, "It doesn't really matter, I made my choice and now I have to live with it -- or try to anyway."  Anton turned his face away once again, "I consider my expulsion from the academy to be a fair trade for my mother and sisters."

                The two remained silent for several moments.  Turning back towards Jindra, he gave her a grim smile, "But I've found a position, so you needn't worry that I'm wondering the streets cold and hungry.  The pay is nothing compared to what I would have made as an officer, but I can live on it -- plus I get room and board included."

                Jindra's eyes widened, "What kind of position?"

                "As a guard -- I'll admit it isn't the glamorous life of an officer, but it's a job and the work isn't overly demanding."  Jindra felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach, "A guard -- where?"  _Please gods, don't let it be . . ._

                Anton looked her in the eye and smiled, "The black tower -- I'm a sergeant-at-arms in the sorcerer's tower, Jindra."


	43. Chapter FortyThree

FORTY-THREE

                Anton watched the color drain from his companion's face.  "Jindra?"  He stepped towards her and took her shoulders in his hands.  "Jindra -- are you alright?"  She could see the concern and fear on his face, but she couldn't catch her breath to answer him; instead she slowly nodded her head.

                He looked at her intently, "Are you sure?  You've gone completely pale.  Are you sure you're not ill?"

                Jindra shook her head, "I-I-I'm fine -- really.  I just felt a little queer . . . I'll be alright."  Anton looked at her face for a few moments before releasing her shoulders.  "Maybe you should get home -- you really do look ill."

                "I-I-I'm alright . . . I'll be fine."  Her voice shook a little.  _I can't believe it . . . the tower . . . _

                 Anton reached for her arm, "Let me hail a cab . . ."

                Jindra shook her head, "I'm quite alright, Anton -- whatever it was has passed . . ."

                "Don't be quarrelsome, Jindra.  You look like you're about to pass out -- I really think I should escort you home."  Taking her arm tightly in his, Anton pulled her along to the curb and hailed a passing coach.   Opening the door, he helped Jindra inside and quickly gave the driver directions.

                Settling himself on the bench across from her, he looked at her intently.  "Has this happened before?  I don't think I've ever seen you ill, Jindra."  He tilted his head a little to one side, "It looks like some of your color has come back though -- how do you feel?"

                "Fine -- I'm alright," she answered curtly turning to look out the window.

                "You don't have jump down my throat.  You practically pass out right in front of me and you don't think that I should be concerned?"

                "I-I-I wasn't going to pass out -- I just felt . . . strange for a moment.  I-I-I can't explain it -- but I'm perfectly fine now."

                "Maybe you think so, but your face says otherwise."

                "I thought you said I was looking better?"

                "I said that your color was returning -- I didn't say you looked better.  Perhaps you need to see a physician . . ."

                "Look Anton -- nothing happened, I'm quite alright and I don't need you to be a nursemaid."

                Anton looked at her for several long minutes, "No you don't need a nursemaid, Jindra -- and I don't want to play at being one either."  He let out a frustrated sigh, "I thought that you and I had moved past all this -- that we've become friends again.  I am worried about you Jindra, because I care about you -- friends are allowed to care about one another, you know."

                She looked at him and then dropped her eyes, "I know . . .  it's just that -- that . . ." Jindra turned her head a little and looked out the window.  "How did you end up at the sorcerer's tower?  Y-Y-You used to say such horrible things about -- about them."  She turned back and looked at him, "Why would you accept a position there?"

                Anton didn't reply right away, instead turning to look out the window himself for a few moments.  "Where else could I go, Jindra?"  He finally answered without turning to face her.  "I've been expelled from the best military academy in Zaibach -- there aren't many options open for me."  He finally turned to look at her, "It wasn't my first choice, I can assure you of that."  Jindra could see the coldness in his eyes and it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.  "But at least there they didn't care about the academy -- or having to know the reason for my dismissal.  All they saw was a man who had some military training and could handle sword -- as strange as it sounds, they took me on face-value."

                He turned back to the window again, "The whole place sets my teeth on edge -- I still hate it just as much as ever . . . but at the moment I don't have any choice.  I-I-I can't -- I won't go home . . . this is the only choice I have right now.  I'm only obligated for a year -- after that I can resign or leave. "He looked back at Jindra and his voice sounded sad, "Sometimes you have to take the only path open to you, Jindra -- whether you want to or not."

                The two remained silent for the remainder of the trip.  When the coach pulled to a stop in front on the Roh house, Anton jumped out and then took Jindra's hand to assist her down.  He did not immediately release her and the two stood facing one another.  "You do look much better, Jindra.  But I still think you should see a physician . . ."

                She gave an exasperated sigh, "Anton, please . . .  do we have to go back through all that again.  I'm perfectly fine."  He opened his mouth, but Jindra spoke first.  "I promise if it happens again, then I will a doctor."

                "I will hold you to that promise, Jindra."  Anton raised his free hand and lightly brushed her cheek, "T-T-The only thing I have left in my life is you -- and our friendship.  I wish that things could have been different between us . . . maybe if I had met you first -- before . . . before him -- perhaps I would have been the one to win your heart."  He looked at her intently for a few moments and Jindra felt herself blush under his dark blue gaze.  "I love you Jindra -- I was in love with you before I even met you.  Coren used to talk about you all the time.  He loved you a great deal -- and I fell in love with you too, just listening to him speak about you."

                Releasing her hand, he stroked her cheek once again and gave her a sad look.  "I-I-I thought that I could do this -- that I could just be your friend . . . b-b-but I can't -- it's just too much.  I can't stand to be near you and not be able to -- to touch you or tell you how I feel about you.  But what makes it worse is knowing that there is someone else -- another man who can do all of things that I can't."   He turned away from her, not wanting her to see the tears that welling in his eyes.

                Anton took a breath and then stepped to the open door of the coach.  He turned to look at her "I-I-I don't think that we should see each other anymore, Jindra.  B-B-But if you ever have need of anything -- anything at all, please contact me and I will come to you.  If I can help you in anyway -- you only have to ask and I will come."  Climbing into the cab, he looked back at her one last time, "Goodbye Jindra . . . I hope that you find happiness -- even if it isn't with me."  Closing the door to the coach, Anton settled back into the seat and then called out to the driver to go.  As the cab pulled away, he kept his eyes straight ahead, unable to look at Jindra again.

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                Closing his eyes as if in pain, Anton Lefebvre let his tears ago; reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a dull silver flask.  Unscrewing the cap, he put it to his lips and drank.  The liquor burned down his throat and he drank until he thought he would choke.  By the time the cab arrived at the front gate to the sorcerer's tower, the flask was empty.  Pulling coins from his pocket, Anton paid the driver and passed through the front gate.  Instead of going to his cramped cell-like room, he ascended several flights of stairs and made his way through the twisted hallways of the tower.

                Taking a deep breath, Anton knocked on the ebony colored door.  After a few moments, the door was opened.  "Ah, Lieuten-- pardon me, Sergeant Lefebvre.  I've been expecting you to come and see me."   Anton entered the dimly-lit room.  "How are the accommodations in the guard quarters?  Not quite what you're used to I'm sure; but nothing that can't be -- remedied."  There was a faintly mocking tone in the man's voice.  "So . . . am I to assume that you've reconsidered my offer?"

                Anton nervously swallowed, "Possibly . . . however, I would like to discuss it a bit further."

                "Why of course, I'm always open to negotiation -- within reason of course.  Come have a seat and we'll see what's on your mind."

                Anton took the chair that the man indicated.  "I will accept your offer -- on one condition."

                "You don't waste anytime do you Lefebvre.  Only one condition -- very well, what is it that you want this time?"

                Anton took a breath to steady himself, "Jindra Roh."

                "I . . . I'm not sure that can be arranged.  The girl has become something of an inconvenience."

                "But what if I've come up with a way for us to both to get what we want?"

                The man seemed to consider Anton's words, "You've intrigued me, Lefebvre.  We might be able to do business after all . . . why don't you tell me what it is that you have in mind."

                Anton inwardly smiled; _you will be mine Jindra Roh.  You will love me -- only me._


	44. Chapter FortyFour

**PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING:  Although I have not changed the rating (PG13), this chapter does contain references to homosexuality.  There are no graphic descriptions, but it is inferred.  Please read with caution if you find such topics offensive.  Thanks for taking the time to read my fic.  J**

FORTY-FOUR

                Marco Dimetra walked arm-in-arm with his friend's fiancé down the sidewalk.  Although those that passed them barely gave the two a glance, Marco thought that he and Jindra made an attractive couple.  Although not vain, Marco knew that he was a good-looking man -- there had been several lovers in his past who had initially sought him out because of his looks.  He was of average height, not towering like Folken; his eyes were a deep chocolate brown that went well with his dark, curly hair.  All-in-all he was quite agreeable, he thought; especially when escorting a young lady like Jindra Roh.

                Marco had not been sure of what to make of Jindra when the two had first met.  Folken had described her as a very loving, caring and almost gentle sort of girl.  However, the Jindra Roh that he had met in the bookshop that first day had been of a different mettle altogether.   Not that he hadn't expected her to be wary of him -- had he been in her shoes he would have been too.  But underneath the cool, steely exterior of that first meeting was the girl that Folken had fallen in love with; and Marco could see why.  There was something about her -- she had a way of looking past the physical and seeing into the heart of person; he could see why Lacour had been drawn to her.   Jindra was the kind of person that accepted people based on their actions, not just their words.  In the short time that he had spent with her, Marco could see how much she loved Folken -- there was a deep bond between the two, a gentle protectiveness of one another -- a joining of two separate parts into one -- and Marco had a felt a little jealous.  It wasn't that he was exactly jealous perhaps, just that he knew he would never have that kind of love -- that kind of bond with another person.  Such things were not permitted in the tower -- despite Folken Lacour's bold courage to the contrary -- but there were also other factors that would not permit Marco to experience the joys of being joined with one person for the rest of his life.  But despite it all, he could at least share in Folken and Jindra's happiness -- if only for a short time.

                "Are you sure you're not going to get into trouble, Marco?"  Jindra was asking him.  "You've been spending an awful lot of time away from the tower . . ."

                Pulling his thoughts back, he glanced at her.  "It's alright -- like I've said before, no one really cares if I'm around or not.  I'm not important enough to miss -- most of the time they think I'm slacking off somewhere.  Really, you shouldn't worry."

                "I know you and Folken are only trying to protect me, but even I know that you can't possibly have that much free time; I know how busy Folken is all the time -- how much work he has to do.  From what little I know about -- about discipline in the tower, I can't believe that they just let you wonder around and do whatever you want.  I'm sure there is something that you should be working on -- something that you're going to get in trouble for not finishing."

                He gave her a smile, "Oh, I'll probably get an earful about my laziness and poor habits -- nothing I haven't heard before; I assure you, I'll be quite alright."  Trying to turn their conversation away from the tower, Marco quickly asked, "I'm absolutely gasping for something to drink -- could I interest you in some refreshment, Miss Roh?"

                "Why yes -- thank you, Master Dimetra."

                He chuckled, "Are you sure you don't have any sisters at home?  I'm going to miss your wit and conversation when you leave."  His voice took on a slightly more serious tone, "If I were inclined towards such things, I think I'd try to persuade you to marry me instead."  Jindra looked puzzled at his words and was unsure of what to say.  Seeing the look on her face, he smiled once again.  "Don't worry -- I won't compromise you with Folken . . . although I like you a great deal and have grown quite attached, you really are not my . . . my type, I guess you could say.  Rest assured; your reputation is safe with me."  Jindra once again felt puzzled at Marco's words and could not make any reply. 

                Marco glanced at her once again, seeing the confusion on her face.  _I shouldn't say such things . . . she really has no idea._  Silently chiding himself, the two continued walking in silence.  They had walked perhaps another two blocks before Marco stopped in front of a small cafe.  After peering through the window to check the crowd, he turned towards Jindra.  "How about here; it doesn't look too busy.  We could have some tea -- perhaps something to eat if you like."  Jindra nodded her head as Marco let go of her arm.  Opening the door for her, he made a small florish with his hand, "After you, my lady."  Jindra raised her brow at him as she walked passed which caused him to smile and chuckle once again.

                Marco and Jindra took a table near the window and after scanning the small menu, gave their orders to the waiter.  The man returned quickly with their tea and then departed.  Marco took the pot and filled Jindra's cup first; she smiled her thanks and took a small sip. "Mmmmm, it tastes like -- like it has honey in it.  I don't usually put honey in my tea, but it's really good."  Marco took a sip from his cup and nodded his head.  The two were silent once again while they drank. 

                The waiter returned after a few minutes, this time bearing a small tray of biscuits, preserves, butter and cookies.  Jindra reached for one of the biscuits, which to her delight were still warm from the oven.  After smothering it with butter and preserves, she took a bite. "Oh -- this is absolutely wonderful," she said with her mouth full.  "You have to try these, Marco -- it's practically melting in my mouth."

                Marco smiled at the expression on her face.  "If a mere biscuit can inspire that kind of a response, I can only imagine what a kiss from your esteemed fiancé must do."  He chuckled as he watched her blush.

                Jindra glared at him as she quickly swallowed, "I-I-I don't think that's very funny.  In fact, I don't think I like your sense of humor at all Marco Dimetra."

                Marco put the back of his hand to his brow, "Oh my lady, I could not bear the thought of your displeasure -- please forgive me."  Dropping his hand, he batted his eyes at her.  "Please say that you'll forgive me -- I'm only a lowly male . . . a man without the slightest clue to the female psyche.  I could not bear the thought that you were angry with me . . . I will grovel like a dog at your feet if only you will say . . ."

                Jindra let out an exasperated sound, "Will you stop it!  People are starting to look at us."  She gave him a glare and Marco could see the anger in her eyes. 

                He reached across the table and touched her hand, "I'm sorry Jindra, I didn't mean to embarrass you; sometimes I just get carried away.  Not everyone appreciates my rather dry sense of humor."  His voice sounded apologetic and Jindra could see it in his eyes.

                Her eyes softened and she gave him a small smile, "If your humor were any drier, I think it would be classified as a desert Marco."

                He laughed, "Indeed . . ." His tone became more serious, "You are a rare one, Miss Jindra Roh . . . if only you were . . . but then you probably wouldn't be the same -- such a pity . . ." He drifted off, a sad thoughtful look on his face.

                Jindra looked at him for a few moments as she took a few sips from her teacup.  She took a breath, "M-M-Marco . . . c-c--can I ask you something?  I-I-It's probably none of my business -- and you can tell me so . . . but -- but . . ."

                He nodded at her to continue, noticing the blush that crept up her face again.  _After all the innuendo this afternoon what did I expect?  But will she understand -- or will she treat me like I'm some kind of . . . freak . . . or a sick monster?_

                Jindra swallowed, "You keep saying things -- things that I don't understand . . . about the tower and . . . and . . ." Her cheeks pinked even more.  "You and Folken try to gloss over what goes on inside the tower, but -- but I can't believe that you can just do what you want whenever you feel like it, Marco.  I've heard . . . well, I've heard stories about what goes on in there -- and . . . and I don't believe that they would just let you get away with doing whatever you want -- that you can just ditch your work and your studies without . . . without some kind of punishment."

                Marco looked surprised; this was not what he had expected to hear.  He considered what to tell her for a few moments.  Taking a quick sip from his cup, he cleared his throat and looked at her.  "You're absolutely right, Jindra.  I will get into trouble -- but before you say anything, just listen."

                He swallowed again, "I-I-I get away with a lot of things that other people get punished for; usually it's nothing more than being berated in front of everyone -- or having to clean the study labs or some such."  He paused as he tried to gather his words.  "I'm not the most committed student and I'll be the first to admit it.  B-But the tower is all I have -- I don't have anywhere else to go.  I don't have any families that are willing to take me in, I don't have any money -- but at least there I don't have to worry about where my next meal is coming from or where I'm going to sleep."  _Only who I'm going to be sleeping with,_ he thought silently.  "Despite all my shortcomings, they -- they tolerate me.  They tolerate me because . . . because I'm willing . . . and because I'm -- for lack of a better word, available."

                Jindra looked even more confused than before.  "Available -- available for what?" she quietly asked.

                Marco's voice was calm, "Available for 'it', Jindra."

                She shook her head and he could see that she still didn't understand.  Running his hand through his hair, he tried to explain.  "Jindra . . . you know about love -- about making love?  What happens between a man and a woman when they make love?"  She slowly nodded her head. "Well, it's not just men and women that can make love with each other."  He watched her, trying to gauge her reaction, "Not all men desire to make love with a woman and not all women desire to make love with a man."  He watched her blush and knew that she was starting to understand.  "I-I-I have never desired to make love with women . . . I-I-I prefer to make love with . . . with other men."  Jindra gasped, her eyes wide as she looked at Marco with something akin to horror.

                "I know this is something of a shock for you -- I know you were gently raised, Jindra.  This isn't something that most well-born people would willing tell their children -- not unless they had to."  There was a sadness in his voice, "As I said, they tolerate me in the tower -- because . . . because there are other men like me there -- and because I'm willing to . . . to -- to be available to them -- to be with them."

                Jindra said nothing; she just sat and stared -- as if she were a statue.  Marco could see the play of emotions across her face -- horror, confusion, and even sadness.  _I should have kept my big mouth shut -- I could have just left it alone.  Now Folken will know too -- she'll tell him . . . then what?  Will he look at me like I'm some kind of filth on the heel of his boot?  Why didn't I just leave it alone?  _

                Jindra slowly returned to herself, and with a trembling hand she reached for her cup.  Her hands were shaking as she took a long drink of the now cool tea, emptying the cup.  Her hands were still shaking and she almost dropped the little china cup as she tried to put it back down on the table.  Marco quickly reached out and took it from her, setting it down.  Jindra put her hands on the table in front of her and fastened her eyes on them; unable to look at the man across from her.

                Her voice was small and hushed, "H-H-How . . . why?  Did someone -- did someone do something to you to make you like . . . like that?"

                Marco shook his head, "No -- I've always been attracted to other men."  He paused for a few moments, "Even as a boy . . . I always thought that there was something wrong with me -- I knew that I was different from other boys my age -- but I didn't understand why.  I didn't understand the feelings that I had -- I thought . . . I thought that I was some kind of -- freak . . . I was so afraid, I didn't have anyone that I could talk to -- I didn't think that there was anyone who would understand . . ." Jindra had raised her eyes to look at him as he spoke and she could see the depth of his remembered pain and she felt ashamed of her earlier feelings.  Instinctively she reached across the table top and touched Marco's hand.  He seemed surprised, but there was also a grateful look in his eyes. 

                "I was fifteen when I came to the tower -- still unsure of what I was, the feelings that I had.  I-I-I met another man -- older than me . . . he was -- he was a captain in the guard.  He was so handsome -- blonde hair and green eyes -- I-I-I couldn't stop thinking about him.  I would follow him around and watch him.  I hated myself -- I knew that it was wrong, it had to be.  Men weren't supposed to moon over other men -- it was . . . it was unnatural; but I couldn't help myself."

                Jindra blushed once again as Marco described his infatuation -- it sounded just like the same kind of infatuation that she had once had for one of Coren's old schoolmates.  She had been only twelve or thirteen at the time, but she could still recall every line and detail of Jonas LaFontaine.  He had been her first crush, and she had fallen hard.  But like most crushes, the attraction had been one-sided.  Jonas was never been cruel to her, but he had always treated her as nothing more than the annoying kid sister of his schoolmate.  So after a month or so of mooning after him, Jindra had cried for a week swearing that her heart had been broken forever.  Jonas had come to her brother's funeral and Jindra had found herself wondering what she had ever seen in him in the first place.  He had been quite handsome, but he had also been arrogant and condescending.  _But who thinks of things like that when you're only twelve years old,_ she thought.   

                "After a few weeks, Daymond -- that was his name -- confronted me one day.  He knew that I had been spying on him, following him around.  I was afraid that he would turn me in or beat me.  But instead, he -- he talked to me . . . and I found out that he was like me -- that I wasn't some lone freak in the world . . . there were other men out there like me.  I swear I cried for an hour as he held me, telling me that I wasn't some unnatural, sick monster."  Marco suddenly reached out and grabbed the teapot, quickly refilling his cup.  He downed the entire cup in one swallow, grimacing at the bitter taste of the cold tea.  Jindra could see the deep emotion that burned in his eyes once again.

                His voice was softer as he continued, "He -- he was also the first . . . the first lover that I ever had.  He didn't take advantage of me -- it was several months later before we -- before we . . . well, you know.  But during that time he also became like a mentor to me -- I could talk to him about all the things that I had never been able to tell anyone before.  He knew that I was scared -- how unsure I was of myself.   But that first time . . . he was so patient -- so gentle with me . . . he wanted it to be a good experience for me -- and it was."  He saw Jindra's crimson cheeks and he almost smiled.  "We were only lovers for a few weeks . . . then Daymond's enlistment was up and he decided to leave.  I was heartbroken of course -- I had come to rely on him so much.  But deep down I knew that although he cared for me, he wasn't in love with me or me with him.  We parted as friends -- but I never saw him or heard from him again."

                "There have been others -- some that I cared for . . . some that just appealed to me at the time . . . and some that took what they wanted and then roughly cast me aside . . . but I've always accepted my place in the tower, Jindra.  I know what is expected of me . . . and I-I-I accept it."

                Jindra stared into his face, and Marco could see the sadness in her eyes and a momentary flash of something that looked like anger.  "H-H-How can you let them use you like that, Marco?  How can you live like that -- knowing that you're . . . you're nothing more than a-a w-w-whore for them?"  Marco was startled by the anger in her voice.  "You deserve more than that -- how can you let them do that to you?"

                "I use them just as they use me, Jindra.  My family were poor . . . they were farmers.  Do you think that I don't know what kind of life was waiting for me if they had lived?"  He nervously ran his hand through his hair, "But look at where I am -- in the Capital of the empire, a place that seemed like a myth to my parents.  I've received an above average education -- my parents could barely read or write . . . I've seen and learned things that my poor father never could have dreamed of in his whole life.  I-I-I never lack for companionship -- there is always someone willing to share my bed, even if it is for only one night.  Perhaps I am nothing but a common whore . . . but I take just as much from them as they take from me."

                Jindra swallowed, "I-I-I didn't mean . . . I-I-I don't think that you're a whore, Marco."  She looked down and started toying with her spoon.  "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean it to come out like that.  But . . . I -- I'm sorry, Marco."

                "I should have just kept my mouth shut.  I was just toying with you, Jindra -- teasing you because I knew you didn't have a clue about what I was talking about."  He let out a weary sigh, "I certainly wasn't expecting to sit here and pour out my sad little life to you.  But . . . but you -- there is something about you that made me want to tell you.  I-I-I can't explain it -- I just knew . . . I just knew somehow that I could trust you -- maybe because you and Folken have put so much trust in me.  I don't know . . ."

                Jindra jerked her head up and dropped the spoon when Marco mentioned Folken's name.  "Folken -- you're not . . . you don't want . . ."

                Marco knew what she was trying to say, "No, Jindra -- Folken definitely prefers the female of the species.  You don't have to worry that I'm going to try to seduce him -- as tempting as that sounds -- he really is quite handsome,  I must say;"  he gave her rakish smile. "But I couldn't do that to you -- I like you too much."  He sobered a bit, "I don't think he knows about me anyway -- like you, I think he was gently raised; no doubt this will be quite a shock for him, too."

                Jindra seemed to consider his last words, "M-M-Marco . . . I won't say anything to him -- not if you don't want me to.  I understand if you don't want him to know -- or if you want to tell him yourself . . . it's up to you."

                "I don't know . . . I don't want to scare him or to have him hate me . . . I don't want him to think that I only want to be his friend so that I can try to seduce him and take advantage of him . . .I don't want him to look at me like I'm some kind of sick freak."

                Jindra's voice was gentle, "Folken always says such things about himself -- because of his arm.  I'll tell you the same thing that I told him, Marco -- I don't want to hear such things out of your mouth.  You are not a sick freak.  I won't claim to understand all of this or that I'm completely alright with it, but you are most definitely not some kind of monster."

                She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. "I think that you're a very unique person, Marco Dimetra. You're funny, attractive, caring, and despite what you say -- intelligent."  He saw her suddenly blush, "And if . . . and if you were inclined towards . . . my type, I'd be very flattered by your attentions."

                Marco looked at her for several moments; it seemed as if he were searching her face for something.  He gave her a small smile and raised her hand up to his lips and lightly kissed it.  "Folken is a very lucky man to have someone like you in his life, Jindra Roh.  I wish the two of you every happiness in the world -- and I hope you have a house full of children that will drive him completely mad!"  He grinned and released her hand.

                Jindra smiled and laughed, "I hope so, too . . . " She became serious once again, "Folken chose his friends well, Marco.  We'll always be indebted to you -- for your help and kindness . . . and if you ever find yourself in Palas or if the tower becomes more than you can bear -- our door will always be open to you.  You will always be welcome in our house, Marco -- always."

                Marco smiled and nodded his head, "Thank you Jindra, I appreciate the invitation and I plan to take you up on it sometime."

                Signaling for the waiter, he started to pull some coins from his pocket, "Well enough chit-chat for one afternoon -- aren't we supposed to be getting your future husband a wedding present today?"  He handed some coins over and then rose.  Marco went to Jindra's side of the table and pulled out her chair, "I think it only fair to tell you that Folken already has your present.  I haven't seen it though, he won't show it to me -- probably afraid I'll tell you what it is.  But I'm pretty sure it's something very special.  We don't want him to outdo us, now do we?  So we need something extra special -- something that will knock his boots off."

                Jindra reached for her leather bag and settled it on her shoulder.  "I had something in mind -- something from Fan . . . something from his homeland.  I've been reading about some of their marriage customs . . . the married couple exchange rings when they wed.  I was thinking of having something made -- I know there isn't much time, but I might be able to have it done.  I sketched out a design and -- and have an inscription."  

                Marco looked thoughtful, "Sounds very romantic . . ." He slowly smiled, "I just had a brilliant idea -- why don't you give him two gifts.  I have the perfect thing . . ."

                Taking her arm, Marco led her from the cafe as he told her about his idea.


	45. Chapter FortyFive

FORTY-FIVE

                Folken Lacour surveyed his appearance in the wall mirror of his small wash room.  Peering intently into the glass, he frowned and brushed at something on the front of his coat, adjusted the mantle around his shoulders, and smoothed out the sleeve that helped to hide his mechanical arm from the rest of the world.  _I feel like I'm going to be sick . . . is it just the light in here, or do I really look that pale . . . c'mon,  just try to relax . . . breathe . . . relax, it's just a day like any other . . ._

                "Yeah right," he muttered to himself.  "Like I get married every day . . ." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts as he had been taught.  _Clear the mind . . . focus your energy . . . think only of the task at hand . . . shut out everything else . . . focus . . . calm mind . . . clear mind . . . focus . . ._

                After several minutes, Folken felt himself start to relax and the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach started to dissipate.  He took one final deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.  After one last look in the wall mirror, he turned and went into the adjoining bedroom.  Reaching down, he picked up a black velvet jeweler's pouch that rested on the bed and stowed it away in the breast pocket of his coat.  

                Continuing on through to his front room, he stopped at the paper strewn worktable.  Spread out across the scarred wooden surface were schematics and drawings of the guymelef prototypes that had exploded during training exercises.  Folken was still working on comparing the various preliminary drawings with the actual finished plans -- a job that had not received his complete attention in the past week.  _Juri is going to have my hide -- I'm supposed to be done with these the day after tomorrow.  I hope Marco will get a chance to work on them -- he did promise to try.  _

                Thinking of his fellow apprentice, Folken smiled as he picked up the small brass key that Marco had left there earlier.  Folken almost laughed aloud as he tried to imagine what Jindra's reaction to Marco's "present" would be when the man gave her it's twin later on that morning.  _I'd wager a gold coin her cheeks will be as pink as sunberry tarts once he tells her what it's for. _  Folken put the key in the pocket of his trousers and sighed.  _We owe Marco so much -- without him, I don't think any of this would be happening.  He's been a true friend and I know how fond Jin is of him . . .   _

                Not for the first time, a hint of jealousy clouded Folken's thoughts as he thought about how much time his fiancé had spent with Marco Dimetra in the past few weeks.  The man had helped set up the appointment for the wedding ceremony, obtained all the necessary forms and documents that the couple needed, arranged for a carriage, reserved a suite of rooms at a nice little inn for an abbreviated wedding night and most importantly, had acted as a go-between for Folken and Jindra.  It was through Marco that the two were able to communicate -- he carried notes back and forth and relayed verbal messages -- all the while appearing to enjoy the subterfuge.  Although Folken trusted Jindra completely, he still couldn't quell the flame of jealousy that flared up whenever he thought about the two of them together.  

                He recalled the brief time that he had been able to spend with Jindra a few days ago.  They had wandered, hand-in-hand, down the carefully tended paths of the city park for about an hour or so -- mostly silent, instead preferring the simple joy of just being with each other.   Jindra had started to tell him about something that Marco had done, her voice light and full of laughter, when Folken had interrupted her.  "Why do you always have to tell me every little thing that Marco does?  All I ever hear anymore is Marco this -- Marco that.  Why can't we just spend some time together without Marco Dimetra?"

                Jindra had let go of his hand as she stopped.  "What's with you?"  She then looked up at him, "In case you've forgotten Folken, he's your friend -- you're the one who asked him to help us."

                "I didn't ask -- he volunteered."

                 "You're -- you're jealous!"  She sighed and shook her head.  "Folken . . . there is absolutely, positively nothing for you to be jealous about.  Marco is your friend -- do you think I could do that to you?  Do you really have that low of an opinion of me?"

                Folken had felt himself blush, "Jin, you know that's not true -- I love you and -- and I trust you.  I-It's just  . . . I can't help it -- I've seen how he flirts with you . . ."

                "Please Folken -- when it comes to flirting, Marco Dimetra is a rank amateur compared to my brother.  Besides, he has no interest in me whatsoever -- he even told me so -- it's just the way he is; he flirts with everyone."  She gave him a smile, "Marco is a nice distraction, but I much prefer to be with the real thing -- if you know what I mean."  She took his hand again, "As much as I like his conversation and wit, he's still not you -- and you are the only man that I want to be with Folken Lacour . . . now and for the rest of my life."

                The clock on the table chimed, pulling Folken from his recollection . . . _and starting today, I want to spend the rest of my life with you Jindra Roh.  _  Patting the breast pocket of his coat one last time, he left his quarters and started down the shadowed hallway.

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                Folken walked through the cemetery towards Coren Roh's grave.  He had not been there since Coren's funeral -- his grief over his friend's death had opened up many old wounds that Folken had believed closed – mostly having to do with his own father's death.  Folken stared at the gray stone marker, lost in his thoughts.    _Three years -- and it's still feels like yesterday . . . I'm sorry father -- sorry I wasn't ready to take your place . . . I tried -- I really did . . . but Van is strong -- he'll make it -- Balgus will guide him . . . Van will make you proud . . . _ Folken felt the wetness on his face, and he scrubbed at his eyes with his long fingers as he turned away.  

                 _I wish you could have met Jindra . . . she's the best thing that ever happened to me . . . I know you would have liked her -- she has such a gentle heart, just like mother . . . and she loves me  -- despite everything that I've done . . . despite what I've become.  Maybe someday I can take her to Fanelia –I know she'd like that . . ._

                 It was a long time before Folken turned back towards Coren's grave.  Bending down, he bowed his head for a few moments in silence.  "I promise you Coren . . . I'll take care of her and protect her . . . whatever it takes, she'll never lack for anything.   I-I-I just want you to know how much I love her . . .  how much she means to me."   His voice faded to a hoarse whisper.  He kneeled for a few more minutes while the sunlight shone down on his pale hair and glinted off the tips of his metal fingers as he reached out and touched the grave marker.  "I'll never forget you Coren . . . if it hadn't of been for you, Jin and I never would have met.  Thank you, my friend."   Slowly rising, Folken once again brushed tears from his eyes as he walked away.

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                Marco watched Jindra as she sat across from him in the coach.  He could see that she was nervous -- her hands were crossed over her middle as if she were trying to stop the fluttering that he knew was churning around in her stomach.   _She looks positively horrible for someone who's about to get married;_ he thought.  He reached over and touched her arm.  "Are you alright, Jindra?"

                "Uh . . . oh . . . maybe . . . I--I think so . . . no . . . yes . . . oh, I don't know."  Her voice was hoarse and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

                "Jindra . . . I don't want this to sound the wrong way, but you don't seem like a very happy bride."

                Marco had picked Jindra up a few blocks from her home.  He had arranged for a room at an inn, where Jindra could change and freshen up; and where Folken would meet her before their appointment at the registrar's office.

                "I-I . . . my stomach feels like its doing somersaults . . . my palms are sweating . . . I want to cry and laugh at the same time . . . and I feel like I'm going to be sick.  Can you laugh and be sick at the same time, Marco?"

                He gave her a reassuring smile, "On today of all days -- probably."  He reached across and pulled at her hand, until he had it grasped firmly in his.  "You'll be fine . . . I know you will."  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "Just take a few deep breaths . . . in -- out . . . in  -- out . . . that's it . . . good girl . . . feel better?"  Jindra nodded her head slightly as he released her hand.  "I guess this isn't exactly the kind of wedding you always dreamed of, huh?" He asked her.

                Jindra shook her head, "I-I never really thought about it before . . . I mean, I knew I'd probably get married some day -- but I never sat around and daydreamed about it, if that's what you're asking. "  Her voice sounded thoughtful, "I never really wanted a big formal wedding . . . my friend Laurelle had a huge wedding -- there must have been three hundred people there.  She looked so beautiful . . . but she seemed so unhappy too.  I remember she told me that she would rather have eloped . . . she just wanted to marry the man that she loved -- not be the center of the biggest social event of the summer."

                "I just always saw myself with something -- less grand, I guess . . . just my family -- my close friends . . . "  Marco saw her smile, "I always pictured my father standing on one side of me-- my fiancé on the other.  My mother would be crying -- and Coren . . . Coren would be making faces at me behind my back . . ." Jindra sniffed a few times.  "I just wish . . . I just wish that things could have been different . . . I wish I didn't feel so -- so guilty."

                With the exception of her brother's death, Jindra felt that the past two weeks had been some of longest and hardest in her life.  She had been so nervous that she could barely eat or sleep; but it was the guilt that made her feel the worst.  Never in her life had she felt as guilty as when she saw or spoke to her parents, knowing that she was marrying a man they despised behind their backs and that she would be running away with him afterwards. 

                So many times in the past week she had wanted to sit the two of them down and tell them everything -- but it was her fear of what they might do to prevent her marriage to Folken that had stayed her tongue.  She hated keeping everything a secret -- she knew that her parents would be hurt and disappointed once they learned what she had done; but she firmly believed that they would forgive her.  _I have to believe it -- it's the only thing I have;_ she thought more than once.  _If only they would see . . . maybe someday they will._

                Marco saw the sadness on Jindra's face.  Glancing down at the large bag sitting on the floor, he quickly tried to change the subject.  "I still can't believe you stuffed your wedding dress into that bag."

                "Well, I couldn't very well carry it out of the house with me -- that really would have caught someone's attention.   I just hope it isn't a complete wrinkled mess . . . "Jindra had tried to wait until the last possible minute before she had to fold up the dress and put it in the bag.  Then she had quietly slipped out of the house, after dropping the bag out of her bedroom window, and hurriedly made her way to meet Marco.  She had also tried to arrange her hair as best she could and even applied a few cosmetics so that she would have less to do when they arrived at the inn.  She had been so nervous; her hands had been shaking the entire time.

                "Well, don't worry -- I'm sure you can have someone press it out when we get to the inn.  That's why I wanted to pick you up so early -- so you'd have time to get ready."  He leaned towards her, as if he were sharing a secret, "Although I don't know this firsthand, I've heard that it takes women an inordinate amount of time to get ready -- especially for something special."  He sat back a little, "I believe your wedding day qualifies as something special." 

                 He gave her a rakish smile, "That reminds me . . . I have something for you;" he said, handing her a small box.

                "What's this?"

                "A wedding present for you -- and Folken."

                "Marco -- you didn't have to . . . you really shouldn't have.  You've done so much for us already -- you didn't have to do this."

                He waved his hand dismissively, "It was all my pleasure, Jindra . . . I just wanted to help Folken -- and you too, of course," he smiled.  "Well, aren't you going to open it?"

                "If it's for the both of us, then I should probably wait for Folken -- so we can open it together."

                "Oh, don't worry about that -- I gave Folken his earlier this morning."  He saw the puzzled look on her face, "I gave him the same thing -- so you can go ahead and open it."  Jindra untied the ribbon on the small box and opened it -- inside was a small key.  She gave him another puzzled look.

                "It's to a suite of rooms at the inn where you'll be meeting Folken.  The suite is yours until tomorrow morning;" he said with a wink.   "The innkeeper assured me that you would have complete privacy -- he was really quite understanding."  He smirked as he watched the deep blush that bloomed across Jindra's cheeks.   

                "Marco!  That's -- that's . . . I can't believe you -- you . . ."  

                "What?  I just explained what I wanted -- how else do you think I got you the best set of rooms the man had?  Private bath, wonderful view . . . the biggest bed I ever saw in my life . . ." He gave her that rakish smile that so reminded her of Coren that she wanted to hit him.  "You should be thanking me . . . I couldn't stand the thought of you two being unable to . . . to uh, celebrate your nuptials properly . . . the two of you are lucky to have someone like me to look out for you -- to think of these things."

                Jindra glared at him, "I'm going to open the door of this carriage and push you out.  I can't believe you told a complete stranger -- I can't go there now -- they'll all know, they'll all be staring at me!"

                Marco laughed and shook his head, "Gods, Jindra -- you're going to be married in a couple of hours.  What do you think happens during a wedding night -- that you shake hands and say goodnight?"  He gave her a knowing look and Jindra felt herself blush even more, if that were possible.  "You know better than that -- I know you do."  Marco gave her a sly wink.    _I'm going to strangle Folken when I get my hands on him.  I can't believe he told Marco about -- about . . . I swear the man is going to be deader than dead!_

                It seemed as if Marco had been reading her mind, "Don't hurt him too much, Jindra -- especially after all the trouble I've gone through to set up such a perfect scene for romance and seduction.   I'd really take it as a personal affront if my good friend were unable to . . . well, to perform his husbandly duties on his wedding day."  He laughed again, this time so hard that tears started to form in his eyes.

                Jindra's eyes grew dark as she glared at him.  Balling up her fist, she leaned forward and punched Marco in the arm as hard as she could.  "Ow!  Damn it woman -- that hurt!"  He rubbed at his arm, "Gods -- that's probably going to leave a bruise!"

                "You're lucky I don't punch you right in that nosy little face of yours, Marco Dimetra!"  Jindra let out a frustrated sound, "What is it about men?  Why do you have to joke about everything?  How can you take something that's so -- so personal . . . so special -- and -- and intimate and make it sound like some kind of dirty joke?"  She sat back, crossed her arms over her chest and turned to look out the window.  She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she tried to blink them back.

                Marco looked at the profile of Jindra's face and he felt slightly abashed.  He ran his hand through his dark curls and sighed.  "Jindra -- Jin," he tried to make his voice light; "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to upset you -- that's the last thing I wanted to do, especially today."  He reached over and touched her arm, "I only wanted to -- to help ease some of your nervousness – try to get your mind off everything . . . distract you a little.   Are you crying?  Gods, don't cry -- all I need is for Folken to know that I made you cry . . . then I'll wish you had pushed me out of the carriage."  He smiled at her, even though she still had her face turned away.  "Jindra . . . look at me, please?"  She slowly turned to face him.

                "I'm sorry, really I am.  I-I only wanted to do something nice for the two of you -- really, I only had the best intentions in mind.  I- I just wanted to make today even more special for you."

                Jindra regarded Marco for a few minutes.  "It's alright Marco . . . I'm just -- I'm just . . . my nerves are all bundled up . . . I haven't been able to sleep all week . . . I'm so nervous -- and anxious . . . my emotions are so -- it's like I've gone crazy or something . . . I don't know what I'm doing . . . I want to laugh and cry all at the same time . . . "

                She reached over and took his hand, "Thank you Marco – it was very thoughtful of you . . . you're right, we are lucky to have a friend like you -- I really appreciate everything that you've done to help us."  The carriage pulled to stop and Jindra released his hand.

                Marco gave her a small smile, "Friends again?" he asked.  Jindra nodded, "Oh . . . I suppose so."    Suddenly, she grabbed his arm, "Marco -- the present!  Where is Folken's other present?  You didn't forget it -- did you?  Please say you didn't."  

                "Present . . .?"  Marco pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, "Gods -- I was in such a hurry this morning . . ." he trailed off as he reached under the seat and pulled out a long, dark wooden case.  "That I managed to grab it before I left."  He smiled at her teasingly.

                "I swear Marco Dimetra; you're going to be the death of me today."  Jindra scolded as she touched the dark wood with her fingertips.  He only smiled at her with wide-eyed innocence.

                 Marco opened the door, climbed down and helped Jindra from the coach.  Taking her bag, he set it on the ground next to her, along with the wooden case.  "This is as far as I go."  He reached for her hands, "I wish the two of you every happiness, Jindra.  If any two people in the world deserve it -- it's you and Folken."  He bent his head and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  "I've grown quite found of you, Jindra.  You're like the sister that I never had.  So just remember, if Folken Lacour ever makes you cry or does anything to hurt you – well, you just let me know and I'll sort him out for you."  He smiled down at her, "You and Folken are the first true friends that I've had in a very, very long time.  I'm going to miss the two of you terribly when you leave for Palas."

                Jindra could see the shine of tears in his eyes and she squeezed his hand.  "We'll miss you too . . . we wouldn't have been able to pull this off if it wasn't for all your help, Marco.  I don't know how to thank you for everything that you've done . . . we'll always be indebted to you."  

                Marco swallowed down his emotions and gave her another one of his big smiles, "Just try not to faint during the ceremony, okay?"  He said as he released her hands.  "Although I won't guarantee that your intended won't hit the floor first.  I think our dear Mr. Lacour was even more nervous than you."

                Jindra returned his smile, "Let's just hope we don't both pass out at the same time anyway."

                Marco turned and climbed back into the coach, "I'll be thinking about you."  He shut the door.  Leaning out the window he gave her a sly grin, "Oh, and don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said with a laugh.  "But since there isn't much I haven't done -- well, the two of you should have a very enjoyable evening."

                "Marco!"  Jindra exclaimed as the carriage pulled away.  She could hear him laughing as he waved goodbye through the window.


	46. Chapter FortySix

FORTY-SIX

                Jindra was in the small dressing room assessing her appearance in the large oval mirror on the wall over the vanity table.  As soon as Marco had pulled away, a boy had emerged from the inn and hurried to her side to take her luggage.  "This way Miss -- right this way."  After she was ushered into the main room, an older man came forward and gave her a warm smile.  "Ah, right on time, Miss -- your suite is all ready and I have one of my upstairs girls ready to assist you in anyway.  If you'll follow me, we'll get you all settled in."  The man was practically beaming at her.   With the boy following behind, Jindra followed the innkeeper upstairs.

                As Marco had promised, the suite was very nice -- in a cozy kind of way.  The furniture was old, but well cared for -- dark mahogany wood that glowed with the shine of beeswax.  There were several vases of fresh flowers scattered around the room and the fireplace had been stacked with kindling in anticipation of being used later.   The boy put her luggage on the bed while Jindra fished a few coins out of her black leather bag.  He gave her a small bow as she pressed them in his hand before the innkeeper shooed him out the door. "Now if you need anything Miss, just pull the bell cord.  I'll send Abigale right in."  He smiled at her before closing the door.

                Jindra hurriedly opened the big bag that held her dress and other accessories.  Shaking out the folded silk, she made a frustrated sound as she surveyed the gown.  "Just great -- I knew it."  There was a light knock on the door and Jindra put the dress down on the bed as she went to answer it.  Opening the door she found a girl, about her age, smiling at her.  "I'm Abigale, Miss," the girl gave her a small curtsey.  "I'm to help get you all ready for your big day."  Jindra stood aside and let the girl come in.  The maid's eyes immediately fell on the dress strewn across the bed.  "Oh my, Miss -- what happened to your beautiful dress?  Well, don't you worry none -- I can take care of that for you."  Taking up the dress, she went to the door, I'll have this pressed out in flash;" she promised, closing the door behind her.  _Bless you Marco Dimetra -- infuriating creature that you are;_ Jindra smiled as she finished unpacking her things.

                Jindra had unpacked, touched up her hair and make up and was sitting on the bed wrapped in her robe when Abigale returned with the dress.  "Just as I promised you, Miss -- good as new it is."  Jindra smiled at her, "Thank you so much, you did a beautiful job."  The girl blushed and dropped another curtsey.  "Are you already to get dressed?"  Jindra nodded her head.  "Then I'll just take this into the dressing room for you."  Jindra followed the maid into the adjoining room.

                "Oh Miss, you look so beautiful."  Abigale exclaimed as Jindra looked at herself in the mirror.  "That color is really becoming . . . your new husband is gonna be over the moon when he sees you, I just know it!"  The maid stepped forward to brush at something on the sleeve of the dress.  Jindra blushed at the girl's compliment.  Abigale then walked around her in a circle, taking one last look.  "As perfect as you can get, Miss."

                Jindra smiled her thanks and pressed some coins into the maid's hand, "Thank you, Abigale -- you've been a tremendous help."  Jindra had taken the money out earlier while she waited for the maid to return with her dress.  The girl gave her a deep curtsey, "Thank you Miss, you're too generous."

                There was loud knock on the outer door, "Jin -- it's me.  Can I come in?" Folken's voice inquired.

                Abigale smiled, "Is that your husband-to-be, Miss?  Oh no -- you stay right here and I'll go let him in; then you can make a grand-like entrance."  The girl hurried out into the other room and Jindra heard the murmur of voices and then the closing of the door.  She felt her stomach fluttering once again and she put her palms across her midsection and took a breath.  

                "Jin -- the maid said you were just finishing . . ." Folken trailed off and caught his breath as Jindra emerged from the dressing room.  "Gods . . . Jin . . . " He stepped towards her and took her hands, "You -- you look . . . you look so beautiful."  He let go of her left hand and lightly stroked her cheek.  "That dress . . . it's the one you were wearing at Coren's party . . . I remember, I thought you looked so beautiful then, too."

                For once, Jindra didn't blush; instead her eyes welled up at the tender emotion in Folken's voice and the admiration that she saw in his eyes.  Standing on her toes, she brushed his lips with a kiss.  "I thought it might be appropriate -- that was the first night that you kissed me."

                Dropping her other hand, Folken put his arms around her and hugged her to his chest.  "Kissed you and fell in love with you -- but I think I might have been in love with you before then, I just hadn't realized it yet."

                Jindra pulled away from him and ran an appraising eye over his attire.  "You've been shopping, I see."  She reached out and touched the fabric of his coat. "You look so handsome . . . not that you weren't already . . . but . . . you look so -- so noble and dashing."  He smiled at her, "Glad you approve, my lady."

                Folken reached into his coat, "As beautiful as you are Jindra, there's just one thing missing . . ." He pulled a black velvet pouch out of the breast pocket.  Opening the pouch, he spilled what looked like a necklace out into his metal palm.  "It's a little late, but I never did get you a proper betrothal gift."

                Jindra saw that it was indeed a necklace, with a large tear-drop shaped pendant suspended from a fine gold chain.  "Folken -- it's beautiful . . . where . . . "   Folken held it out to her and she took it in her hands.  Looking at the pendant, she saw that it was clear, like crystal and inside was what appeared to be a lock of Folken's hair.   Jindra looked up at him, "Its -- is that your hair?"  He nodded and took the necklace from her.  "But how . . . how did you do that?"

                Folken took the necklace and slipped it over her head; the chain was long enough that the pendant nestled between her breasts, resting just below her heart.  Jindra took the pendant in her hand and looked at it again.  "Its crystal, isn't it?  Like the one that you gave me."

                He nodded again, "Yes -- I made this one, too.  I put a lock of my hair in it before it hardened."  He put his hand over hers, "I wanted something that would remind you of me every time you looked at – a part of me that would always be with you, even if I wasn't."   Folken smiled at her.  

                The idea of the pendant had come to him in the middle of the night.  He had been trying to think of something to give her – something that would be unique and personal.  Seeing the crystals that Master Lacroix had made that contained flowers and insects had given him the idea; however it took him several days to decide on just what he wanted to capture for her.  After wrangling with it for a while, he finally decided on a lock of his own hair.  It was certainly unique and personal – and he thought that it was also quite romantic too.  _A piece of me, always touching her – resting over her heart.  It had taken him only a short time to make the crystal and he was pleased by how clear it had come out.  Taking it to a jeweler, Folken then had it cut and shaped to his specifications and the gold chain added.    He had been so pleased with it, that he couldn't wait to give it to her._

                But Folken had also wanted the necklace to become more than just a betrothal gift – he wanted it to become a legacy for the family that he hoped to have with Jindra.  Had he still been a prince of Fanelia, his wife would have received a legacy of jewels and other items that were passed down to each generation on their wedding day.  But since that would never be possible, Folken hoped that when the day came that a son or daughter of theirs would wed, that the necklace could be passed down -- a family heirloom to be cherished.  An heirloom with a story of love and determination attached to it.  Folken hoped to see the day when his son or daughter would give it to their son or daughter.  

                Jindra looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes.  "It's beautiful . . . and so precious . . ." She reached up her other hand and pulled his head down towards her.  "I can't believe you did something like this for me."  She pressed his lips with an almost urgent kiss and Folken responded by releasing her hand and putting his arms around her.  The two kissed deeply, their mouths eager and questing.  It was a few minutes before the two pulled apart -- both of them breathless.

                Jindra held the pendant up and looked at it once again.  Glancing up at Folken, she brought it to her lips and kissed it.  "It's beautiful . . . it's the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me."  Folken smiled at her and stroked her cheek.

                Jindra started under his hand, "I have something for you too."  She turned to the night stand next to the bed and reached for the wooden case that she had placed there earlier.  "A betrothal gift isn't part of Zaibach custom, so this is  . . . it's more of a wedding present, I guess -- well, one of them anyway."

                Folken took the case from her and sat down on the edge of the bed.  Placing it across his knees, he carefully undid the three small latches that held it closed.  Slowly opening the lid, Folken let out a breath as he looked at the gleaming blade inside, resting on a bed of dark green satin.  "Jin . . . gods above and below . . . it's . . ." He looked up at her and then back down at the sword.

                Folken slowly reached in, took the sword by the hilt, and gently lifted it out.  Placing the case on the bed next to him, he stood and looked at the blade in his hand.  Carefully taking a few practice swings, he marveled at the feel -- the balance was perfect and the hilt fit into his palm like it had been made for him.  As he examined the long, slightly curved blade further, his practiced eye could see the expert craftsmanship that had gone into its making.  Folken transferred the hilt to his metal hand and then lightly ran his fingers down the blade's gleaming length, "Jin . . . where . . . how . . . where did you get this?"  He looked at her with wide eyes.  "Do you know what this is?"

                Jindra nodded her head, "It was made by Danid LeMora -- he was one of the legendary master sword makers of Gaea; his mark is on the blade right above the hilt."  Folken looked down where she indicated.  "He made the ceremonial swords used by the Knights Caeli of Asturia;" she continued, somewhat calmly.  "This particular sword was made not long before his death -- it's almost two hundred years old."

                Folken snapped his head up, "Two hundred years . . . Jin, this is . . . I can't believe . . ." he shook his head, unable to continue.  Dropping his metal arm to his side, he stepped towards Jindra and pulled her into his embrace and kissed her -- all the while savoring the feel of her body pressed against his.

                The two were interrupted by a knock on the door, "Excuse me . . .  but – but there's a carriage here for you."  Jindra recognized the voice of the boy who had carried her luggage up to the room.

                Folken cleared his throat. "Thank you . . . we'll be right down;" he called out.  Folken gave Jindra a lingering look and quickly kissed her once again.  Taking the sword, he reverently placed it back into its wooden case and closed the lid.  Jindra meanwhile, I had gone back into the dressing room for a quick touch up.  Leaving her black leather satchel, she instead reached for a small silk purse that matched her dress.  Before leaving, she patted the purse to make sure that Folken's other gift was inside.  Taking a deep breath, she joined him in the main room.  

                He held out his hand to her and she smiled as she took it.  Pulling her closer he looked into her eyes, "There's still time to run."  Jindra met his gaze, "Fat chance Lacour -- you're not getting off that easily."

                He smiled at her, "I wouldn't have it any other way.  So, you want to get married today or what?"

                Jindra tried to sound nonchalant, "I guess so . . . I really didn't have any other plans."  Then she batted her eyelashes at him and gave him that coy little smile that she knew he liked, "We can save the 'what' for later."

                Folken arched his brow and gave her a rakish smile that reminded her of Coren and Marco.  "Just what could you be referring to, my dear lady."

                Jindra very slowly licked her top lip with her tongue, "I think I'd rather show you then tell you."  Folken gave her a slow smile, "Well, I've always preferred a more hands-on approach myself . . ."

                "And very nice hands they are too, if I recall."  Jindra replied.  "But there's a little matter of a wedding ceremony . . . and I do believe we're going to be late if we don't go now."

                Folken raised Jindra's hand to his lips.  "The sooner the better . . ." He let go of her hand and reached for the door knob, "After you, my love."

                Jindra turned towards him before she stepped through the door.  "I love you," she said, as she stroked her hand down his cheek.  Folken caught her hand, "Not as much as I love you -- but let's not argue about that right now.  We can wait until later, that way we can have our first fight as husband and wife."  He smiled at her, "Then we can spend the rest of day making up -- what do you think about that."

                Jindra smiled and pulled her hand away, "I think I need my head examined.  Remind me again -- why am I marrying you?"

                "Because you love me?"

                "Oh, that's right.  Silly me -- I almost forgot."

                He stroked her face with his hand, brushing the tips of his fingers across her bottom lip.   "Don't worry, I'll make sure you never forget -- I'm going to remind you everyday." 

                Folken took her hand as he led her down the stairs to the lobby.  The innkeeper wished them good luck as they passed by the front desk.  Abigale was waiting by the door, a small bouquet of flowers in her hand, "Here Miss, you should have some flowers on your wedding day."  Jindra smiled and thanked the girl as she took the bouquet.

                The two finally made it into the waiting carriage.  Sitting side-by-side, Jindra leaned her head on Folken's shoulder while the two held hands.  They remained mostly silent, although every once in a while, Folken would raise Jindra's hand to his lips and kiss it.

                They arrived at the registrar's office rather quickly -- it being only a few blocks from the inn.  Surprisingly, the driver jumped down to open the door for the couple.  Folken climbed down first and then took Jindra's hand as she stepped out.  Still holding hands, the two walked up to the front door and stopped briefly.  Looking at one another, they both smiled and kissed once more.   Folken squeezed Jindra's hand before letting go to pull open the door.  Jindra took a deep breath and stepped through the door; and with a smile on his face, Folken followed her.


	47. Chapter FortySeven

**PLEASE NOTE:  Again, this chapter may contain references to things that some may find offensive – so remember, proceed with caution.  Thanks.**

FORTY-SEVEN

                Folken Lacour stood to the side and watched as Jindra Roh signed her name on the documents that would legally bind them together as man and wife under the laws of the Zaibach Empire.   The process had been fairly quick -- there being no actual wedding ceremony involved.  The couple had needed only to provide copies of birth or other records proving their age and then sign several forms that were duly witnessed by the rather bored looking registrar clerk.   When the man had asked for copies of the pair's birth records, there had been a momentary hesitation before Folken handed over the forged documents that Marco had procured for him.  The two held their breath while the registrar briefly examined each set of documents and with a nod of his head, handed them back.  That finished, it was only a matter of minutes while the clerk finished preparing the marriage documents for their final signatures.

                Jindra moved closer to Folken and he put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.  "We're almost there," he whispered to her.  Jindra looked up at him and he could see the glistening of unshed tears in her eyes.  Turning towards her, he cupped her face.   "I love you Jindra -- you are my heart, my soul -- my very life."  His voice was soft, but Jindra could hear the emotion in it and she felt the tears sliding down her cheeks.

                Jindra took Folken's hand; "Together -- for the rest of our lives . . . loving each other, making a home together, and raising a family . . ." she was interrupted by the return of the clerk, who loudly cleared his throat to gain their attention.  "If the two of you are ready . . ." the man trailed off, his tone indifferent.  Folken kissed Jindra's hand and released it.

                The clerk handed Folken the quill, "Just sign here and here . . . and then here."  Folken smiled at Jindra and then bent his head as he signed where the clerk had indicated.  When he finished, he handed the quill to Jindra.  Her hands were shaking as she dipped it in the inkwell.  Jindra tried to sniff back her tears and she looked up at Folken before she started -- she could see the wetness in his eyes and she gave him a smile.  Taking a breath, she bent and signed her name underneath Folken's -- her eyes blurred with tears of happiness.  Jindra handed the quill back to the clerk as Folken's arm snaked around her once more.  The man looked through the papers to make sure that everything was in order and then added his own signature to the documents. 

                The clerk then held out a set of copies to Folken, "Congratulations, you are now officially wed under the laws and customs of the Zaibach Empire."  The man's voice held no warmth -- as if he was so used to saying the words that they no longer had any meaning.

                Folken turned to face Jindra, his arm pulling her against him in a tight embrace -- the documents wrinkling in his grasp.  Jindra looked up at him, her tears running unchecked.  Folken smiled at her, "Finally . . . you're all mine -- my wife."  She returned his smile as her hand moved up the back of his neck and pulled his face down towards her, "Forever and ever . . . my husband."  The two kissed, oblivious to the clerk, who gave them an annoying look.  Their kiss deepened and went on until they were interrupted by the clerk who cleared his throat loudly once again.

                Jindra felt herself blushing as she and Folken pulled slightly apart -- but for once she didn't care.  Folken gave the man a glare, but Jindra put her hand on his arm as if in warning.  Folken looked at her and then gave her quick kiss.   "Let's go, my love.  I don't want to waste one minute of the future -- of our new life together."  Jindra smiled at him and nodded her head. 

                As their carriage made its way down the street, Folken and Jindra Lacour sat entwined on the bench seat -- their kisses urgent and eager, their hands gentle and caressing.

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                Marco Dimetra was whistling, a smile on his face, as he walked down the hall towards his quarters.  _If everything went as planned, they two of them should be married by now.  _His smile broadened, _married and ready to get a start on that family . . . _he chuckled.

                " . . . Dimetra!"  The angry sounding voice broke through his reverie.

                "Huh?"  Marco turned around, "Sorry, I didn't . . ." his words died as he saw who had called to him.

                "What are you -- deaf?  I called you three times . . ." The man stepped towards him.

                "Uh . . . Garufo . . . I-I uh, was . . . I just had something on my mind, I-I didn't hear you."  

                "Fondly recalling another one of your little conquests, Dimetra?"  The man regarded him with a smirk.

                Marco colored under the man's gaze, "Uh . . . no, I just -- I just . . ."

                "You've been spending a lot of time outside the tower walls," Garufo stepped closer until he was inches away. "What's the matter Marco -- have the charms of the tower dulled so jaded a bird as you?"

                "Uh -- no . . . I mean, I-I . . ." Marco could feel himself growing hot under the other man's unflinching gaze.

                Garufo reached out and ran his index finger down Marco's arm, "Perhaps you just need to find the right person to liven things up for you."  He reached out and roughly cupped the younger man's chin, forcing his eyes up.  "It's been a long time since you and I enjoyed the pleasure of each others company, eh Marco."  The older man gave him a knowing look and Marco felt a chill run down his spine.  "Perhaps we should renew our . . . acquaintance."

                Marco could feel the fear creeping over him as Garufo's eyes wandered over his frame.  He knew of the man's cruelty and his enjoyment of inflicting pain on others -- knew it first hand; and he wasn't about to let it happen again.  Marco felt the shame burn through him as he remembered what he had allowed Garufo to do to him -- how he had submitted to the man's degradations and cruelty.   It had been almost six years since their last encounter -- but the memory of the humiliation and pain still felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.  Marco knew that the older man kept several women and young men in the city to appease his twisted desires; and he began to wonder why Garufo would seek him out now.   After their last encounter, his eyes filled with tears of shame and pain, Marco had sworn that he would never again let Garufo -- or anyone else, for that matter -- use him in such a way.  He knew what was expected of him, but he would not be abused and toyed with to satisfy the dark, cruel desires of another.  

                Garufo could see the fear in the younger man's eyes and he gave Marco a wide, sly grin.  "I see you remember Marco . . ." He roughly jerked Marco's chin as he held it, ". . . the exquisite pleasure that only I could give you -- and how the dark side of your soul begged me to release it."  The younger man began to tremble under Garufo's tight grip.  "How I loved to watch you cry and writhe Marco -- your fear and humiliation were like a drug . . . so sweet -- so pure -- so utterly intoxicating." 

                Feeling sickened, Marco wrenched himself from the other man's grasp as his fear grew almost into hysteria.  "I-I won't b-be your p-plaything Garufo -- n-n-not again."

                Garufo's eyes darkened and there was a cold tone in his voice, "My, such courage Marco -- and so unlike you."  He gave the young man a smile that seemed almost evil, "Your position here is a rather precarious one, Dimetra.  Are you willing to risk it for the sake of your vanity?"  Garufo tapped his index finger on his chin, "But perhaps you've found some protection -- someone new to shelter behind?"

                "I-I-I don't know what you m-mean . . ."

                "Come now Marco, I know for a fact you've been quite friendly with Folken Lacour of late."  Garufo's eyes almost gleamed with malice, "Such an innocent, I'm sure you had him on his knees begging you to seduce him."  His voice dripped with hatred, "But don't think that little upstart freak will be able to save you -- he's on his way down Dimetra.  Do you want to fall with him?"

                "L-Lacour is . . . Lacour isn't my l-lover.  He isn't . . . h-he doesn't . . . he's not m-my lover . . ." Marco stammered out as he started to tremble.

                Another cold and malicious smile spread across Garufo's face.  "Then you have nothing to worry about, do you Marco?"  He reached out and grabbed Marco by the front of his shirt, "However, getting on my bad side can be an entirely different matter."  Shoving the younger man backwards, he continued.  "But I might be willing to overlook your insolence -- just this once," he pushed Marco backwards again, towards an open door.  "But you'll have to convince me Marco -- convince me that you're worthy of my pardon."  He gave the dark-haired man one final push through the doorway and then followed him through.  "I used to love it when begged Marco -- watching the tears well in those beautiful eyes of yours . . . I wonder how long it will take before you're at my feet, whimpering like the mongrel cur you are."

                The cold, hateful smile on Garufo's face brought a sob of fear to Marco's throat.  "Tears already, Marco?  You disappoint me -- perhaps you've forgotten all that I taught you.  No matter, we have all afternoon to refresh your lessons . . ." The door closed with a hollow sound in the empty hallway.  

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                Jindra leaned her head on Folken's shoulder once again as their cab made its way back to the small inn.  The coach had been another part of Marco Dimetra's gift to the couple -- it had been hired for the entire day, to take them anywhere in the city they wished to go.  After leaving the registrar's office, Folken had insisted on a stroll through the park -- to show off his new wife, he had said -- and despite wanting to spend some time alone with her husband, Jindra knew she couldn't refuse him.

                The pair had walked arm-in-arm through the park for perhaps an hour or so.  Jindra had felt a little embarrassed, the two of them were attired in their finest clothes -- as if they were going to a ball -- and as much as she tried not to, she noticed the stares that followed them.  After a little while, however, she was able to dismiss it all and enjoy being with her husband.  _My husband . . . _she smiled and looked up at Folken's profile as they walked.  _Yes my husband, _she almost giggled with joy;_ my wonderful, handsome husband.  _

                Folken had steered her towards "their" clearing -- the small, almost secluded glade in the park where they used to practice fencing.  That clearing was where the two of them had first met; where their relationship had first started; and where Folken believed he had fallen in love with her.  Jindra smiled at his romantic sentimentality -- she had to agree that the glade held a special significance and that it would always be their special place.

                It was there that Jindra had presented Folken with her other wedding gift, a slim gold band for the third finger of his left hand.  As she had told Marco, she had been reading up on Fanelian customs and history; and learned that the exchange of marriage rings was a time-honored tradition.  The band had been skillfully engraved with the likeness of a dragon, taken from a drawing in an old book; and also with the symbols for love, devotion, faith and trust in the old language of Freid.  There was also a small inscription inside:  Heart of my heart.    Folken had been overwhelmed with emotion as she placed the ring on his finger with shaking hands.  

                Not to be outdone, Folken also had a surprise for his new wife as well -- he too had been thinking of the customs of his homeland, and so he presented her with a ring of her own.   Jindra's ring was also of gold and had been engraved with a flowering vine pattern.  The inscription inside her band read:  Our love is eternal.  The two had laughed and smiled as Folken placed the band on her finger.  With tears in his eyes, he had taken Jindra in his arms and kissed her deeply, crushing her to his chest as if he would never let her go.  It was a long time before the two separated and made their way back to the waiting coach.

                Folken kissed her hair and squeezed her hand as they rode in silence.  He had barely let go of her since departing the registrar's office, unwilling to be separated from her.  Jindra lifted up her head and looked at him.  He smiled and bent down to brush her lips with a kiss.  "I love you," he whispered to her as he leaned his cheek against her hair.  "I love you so much, Jindra.  Today is one of the happiest days in my life . . ."

                Jindra shifted and reached her other arm around Folken's midsection.  "I love you too, Folken . . . with all my heart and soul; until the end of our days;" she raised her head up and looked at him.  "-- and even beyond that."  Jindra felt tears spark in her eyes once again and she put her head down on Folken's chest and gripped her arm around him tighter.  The two spent the rest of the ride entwined together.

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                Folken Lacour and his new bride entered the small inn and went to the front desk.  The older man that had shown Jindra to her room earlier was waiting for them.  "Congratulations -- and as fine a couple as I've ever seen."  He smiled at them broadly and Jindra felt herself blush.

                "Jin love, why don't you go up to the room?  I'll be along in a few minutes; I just need to see about something."  Folken gave her a small smile as he raised her hand to his lips for a kiss.  "It's alright . . . I'll be up in a minute or two."  He released her hand as she nodded.

                Jindra closed the door to their room softly behind her, wondering what Folken needed to see the innkeeper about.  With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off her shoes.  She wiggled her aching toes -- she was used to wearing boots and the embroidered slipper-like shoes had not been made for traipsing around in a park.  Jindra's hands once again strayed to the pendent that rested on her chest.  Cupping the crystal in the palm of her hand, she again marveled at its beauty.   With a smile, Jindra let the pendant fall back down as she rose from the bed and went into the small dressing room.

                Folken opened the door to the suite, expecting to find his new bride waiting for him -- but instead the front room seemed to be empty.  "Jin?"

                "I'll be right out . . ." she called in response.

                Folken stood aside as the innkeeper followed him, carrying a tray bearing a bottle of wine and two glasses.  Placing the tray on a small side table near the windows, he bowed to Folken as he left.

                Folken unwound the mantle that trailed down his right side and pulled it from his shoulders.  Dropping it on a chair, he then unbuttoned his coat.  Reaching for the wine, he filled the two glasses.  "Jin . . ." he said, wondering what she was doing.  After a few moments, he frowned and stepped towards the other room, "I had the innkeeper bring up some wine," he started to say, only to collide with his wife as she came through into the front room.  

                Jindra had changed and was wearing her robe, the sash tightly belted at her waist.  She blushed as Folken looked at her.  "I-I just . . . I had to get out of that d-dress . . . " she offered somewhat lamely.  "I hope you don't mind . . . I didn't know if we were going to go back out . . ."

                Folken put his arms around her, "No, I don't mind at all – in fact, I have no intention of leaving this room anytime soon."  He winked at her and smiled.  Jindra felt her blush deepen and she dropped her eyes.  Folken smiled and kissed the top of her head as he smoothed his hands across her back.  Jindra wound her arms around him and pressed herself tighter into his embrace.  Taking his left hand from her back, Folken lifted Jindra's chin up and kissed her.  As his hand returned to smooth across her back, he made a trail of light kisses across her face, down her neck and back up again.  Looking into her half-closed eyes he could see the barest hint of regret as it mingled with her growing desire.  "What's wrong?"  He asked her gently.  Jindra dropped her eyes and shook her head.  

                "Jin, please -- I can see it in your eyes . . ." He smoothed his hands down her back as he spoke, his touch making her shiver.

                "I-I . . . it doesn't matter -- it's not important."  Her voice was soft and husky sounding.

                Folken took his hands from her back and cupped both sides of her face, "Anything that has to do with you is important to me Jindra.  Please, tell me . . ."

                Jindra laid her head on his chest, "I-I just . . . I just wish that we -- that we would have waited."

                "Waited for what?"  He pulled away from her a little, so that she looked up at him.  "Are you sorry that you married me now?"  He looked at her with sad eyes, "Please Jin -- don't do this to me . . . don't tell me that you've had second thoughts."  She could hear the controlled anger in his voice.

                "No Folken -- don't ever think that."  She reached for his metal hand and took it between her own.  "I love you -- you are my heart and soul -- don't ever think that."  She swallowed and looked down at their joined hands.  "I-I-I just wish that we had waited . . . until today -- our wedding day -- before we . . . before we made love.  Today should have been when . . . it would have been so special."

                Folken looked at her with understanding; and he brought his left hand up and raised her face up towards him.  "Is that all that's bothering you?"  He gave her a small kiss, "Don't worry my love, today will be special."  His fingers stroked along her jaw line, "Because it will be our first time . . . our first time as husband and wife."  He pulled his hand from her grasp and once again encircled her in his arms.  "Today is the beginning of our new life together, Jindra -- a life of loving and sharing . . ." He broke off and kissed his way across her face to her lips.  As his mouth covered hers, Jindra welcomed him eagerly while her hands wound through his long pale hair.

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                The passageway was shadowed and quiet as a trembling and disheveled Marco Dimetra stumbled out in to it.  Gripping the doorframe for support, he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to well up in his dark eyes yet again.  Pulling himself up, he stumbled down the deserted hallway towards his own rooms.

                Closing the door, Marco leaned his back against it and took several deep breaths, but he was unable to stop trembling.  With shaking steps, he made his way into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.  Hugging his arms around himself, he curled up like a child and wept.


	48. Chapter FortyEight

FORTY-EIGHT

                Moving together, their bodies entwined in the most intimate of embraces, Folken and Jindra Lacour soared higher towards the ultimate expression of their love and desire.  Just as he had promised his new wife, their love making had become more ardent and passionate as each partner reached that dizzying plateau that promised pleasure and ecstasy.  Jindra arched up to meet Folken as she cried out his name and wrapped her arms even more tightly around him.  Feeling his wife's body shake with the power of her release, Folken covered her face with kisses and soon joined her.  The two clung to one another as they rode the waves of pleasure that brought tears to Jindra's eyes.

                As her fingers dug into the skin of his back, Jindra felt it ripple underneath her hands as two white wings sprouted from Folken's back.  Although still somewhat startled by his wings, Jindra let her hands trail across the silky feathers.  Feeling her touch on his wings, Folken let out a small groan and covered his wife's face with kisses.  As he once again devoured her mouth with his own, Folken slipped his arms under Jindra and then quickly rolled over so that she was now on top of him.  Jindra let out a small sound of surprise as Folken's wings curled forward and gently settled around her, wrapping the two of them within their soft, sensual warmth.   Resting her head in the crook of her husband's neck, Jindra Lacour smiled and closed her eyes as a feeling of utter joy and contentment settled over her.

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                Propped up on her elbow, Jindra watched the steady rise and fall of her husband's chest as he slept next to her.  She had shifted and now lay along Folken's side so that she could watch him as he slept.  A smile played across her lips as she reached out and gently brushed the hair from his face.  Once again, she let her hand trail across the feathers that still cloaked the two of them like a blanket as her eyes strayed towards the mechanical arm that was half covered by Folken's wings.

                 Jindra had long ago accepted Folken's metal arm.  At first she had been a little frightened of it -- such a thing had seemed so alien and cruel, even for the sorcerer's of the Zaibach Empire.  But attached to that metal monstrosity had been a man -- a man whom she had fallen in love with, a man that she was going to be spending the rest of her life with, a man who had given her such pleasure and joy that she never could have imagined it.  Yet still, she could feel the pity and sadness that crept into her heart when she looked at what the sorcerer's had done to save Folken's life.  But if it hadn't of been for the sorcerer's and their science, she and Folken would never of had met.  As much as she hated the sorcerer's tower and everything that it represented, Jindra was reluctantly grateful to them as well; for without them, she and Folken would not together -- joined for the rest of their lives as husband and wife.

                Jindra leaned over to brush her husband's lips with a gentle kiss.  "I love you Folken Lacour . . ." She smiled as she watched his eyelids flutter open.

                Folken blinked a few times before his gaze settled on the woman next to him.  "Just the beautiful face I wanted to see when I woke up."  He smiled and shifted on to his side so that the two were facing each other.  Folken's metal hand moved to lightly settle on Jindra's hip as he kissed her tenderly.  As the two kissed, Folken slowly drew his wings back in.  The touch of his feathers trailing across her skin made Jindra catch her breath and Folken smiled at her when the kiss ended.  "You're looking awfully pleased with yourself."

                "I am." Jindra replied with a shy smile.  "I've managed to marry the most handsome, most perfect man in the world -- and it's all I can do not to throw open the window and shout it to everyone!"  She moved closer into his embrace and put her arm around his waist.  Folken chuckled and kissed her forehead.  "Such lofty compliments, my love -- I'm not sure I can live up to such praise."

                Jindra looked up at him, "Don't make fun of me, Folken -- I'm just so happy . . . I can't help it -- you've made me so happy . . ."

                He kissed her forehead again, "Not as happy as you've made me today."  Folken rested the side of his face against Jindra's hair, "I love you, Jindra . . . I don't have the words to tell you how much . . ."  

                Jindra snuggled closer to him, "I can't believe it . . . I can't believe that we're really married -- it's like a dream . . . I'm just afraid that someone is going to wake me up and I'll find out it wasn't real at all . . ."

                "Shhh," Folken kissed the side of her face, "Don't talk like that Jin . . . you are my wife -- and I'd die before I let anyone separate us.  You are my mine, Jindra Fanel; and I dare anyone to try and change that."

                Jindra pulled back from him a little and Folken could see the question in her eyes, "Yes, Fanel.  It is my name after all -- although it means nothing now.  But it is the one thing that I can give you, Jindra." There was sadness in his eyes and she could hear it in his voice as well. "But it's a name that you can never use in public -- to the rest of the world you'll always be Jindra Lacour."  

                 "You've married into a very old, proud and noble family, Jin . . . I think my father would have been happy to have you as daughter-in-law -- I know he would have liked you a great deal."

                Jindra reached up and stroked Folken's cheek, "I'm honored Folken . . . honored to be a part of your family."  She reached up to kiss him, "I'd be just as honored if your were a beggar or a farmer . . ." She smiled at him and let her fingers trail down his chest, "I love you for yourself, Folken . . . Folken Lacour is the man that I fell in love with -- and he's the man that I plan on spending the rest of my life with.  The past is the past -- all we need to worry about is the future . . . our future -- together."

                Folken pressed himself closer to Jindra, rolled her onto her back and looked down at her silently for a few moments.  "How did I ever get so lucky?" he whispered.  "What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?"

                *"Luck had nothing to do with it, Folken.  It was fate -- destiny.  We were meant to be together."   Outside, a gentle rain began -- the drops falling against the glass of the windows in a soothing rhythm.

                "Why does it always seem to rain every time we make love?"  Folken asked softly.  

                Jindra gave him a small smile as her hands made their way across his back, "Does it?  Well if that's the case, then I hope it never stops -- I hope it rains forever."  Without a reply, Folken covered Jindra's body with his own as he covered her face and neck with kisses.

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                ". . . Yes my emperor, I fear it is true.  Considering the source of my information, I trust it completely.  I expect to have confirmation from the registrar shortly."

                Emperor Dornkirk turned his cold dark gaze to the man kneeling before him.  "This is your fault -- this little game of yours has gone on far too long.  How dare he -- it goes against every oath he took!"  Dornkirk could barely contain his rage.  "Enough!  I will not allow this to go on any further -- do you understand?  I want an end to this -- and I want it now!"

                The cloaked man bowed more deeply, his forehead almost touching the cold stone floor.  "Y-Y-Yes my lord.  It shall be done -- plans are already in motion.  Let Lacour enjoy his little tart for a while longer -- she'll be taken care of soon enough.   No more than another two weeks -- three at the most, I assure you my emperor.  Folken Lacour will be broken and cowed -- and she will be the means of his undoing."

                Dornkirk's eyes burned in the shadowed chamber, "No more games -- I'm warning you.  My patience is at an end -- and as amusing as this was in the beginning, it has gone beyond that now.  I want that miserable girl gone and I want Folken back in the tower where he belongs.  You cannot grasp how important he is to our future -- to the future of Gaea.  He must not be diverted from his destined path.  Three weeks -- do not fail me."

                "Y-Y-Yes my emperor . . . I swear on my life -- three weeks, no more."

                "You had better make it so -- or you'll wish your life was over long before I get through with you.  Get out of here -- get out of my sight!"  Emperor Dornkirk turned away from the prostrate figure and moved into the shadows.

                The cloaked man rose and bowed as he backed out of the chamber towards the entry doors.  _Damn you Lacour . . . _ A cold smile played across the man's lips, hidden by the cowl of his cloak. _ I'd give my soul to see your face when that little whore betrays you . . . _

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                Folken listened to the fall of the rain as he held his wife in his arms.  Jindra's head rested on his chest and he imagined that she was listening to beat of his heart.   He trailed his fingers through her hair and she let out a small sound as she snuggled closer into his arms.  Despite admonishing Jindra earlier for the same thoughts, he still couldn't believe that they were married.  There had been so much heartache and disappointment between them in the last few months -- and much of it had been his own doing -- that he had despaired over it ever happening.  His only regret was that they had not been able to leave Zaibach that same day.   It worried Folken that the longer they stayed in the city, the more they risked discovery -- it was almost inevitable that someone would find out what they had done.  He had no qualms about sacrificing himself to keep Jin safe -- he had meant every word when he had sworn his life to her.  

                He looked down at Jindra's sleeping face, _I just wish we could have left here today -- I'd feel a lot safer with a couple hundred miles between us and the tower_.  He tightened his embrace around her.  _But I won't ever let anyone hurt you Jin -- if it ever comes to that point, I'll make sure you're safe . . .   _Brushing the top of his wife's head with a kiss, Folken closed his eyes.  _They'll have to go through me first . . ._


	49. Chapter FortyNine

FORTY-NINE

                Jindra awoke, once again wrapped in Folken's arms, the rain continuing to fall outside.  It was hard to judge how late in the afternoon it was, as the clouds had lengthened the shadows within the room.  Stretching a little, she felt a chill and pulled the bed covers up over her shoulders.  _It must be the rain -- it was so warm this morning._  She was tempted to wake Folken and ask him to light the fireplace. _ I should let him sleep -- gods know he's earned it._  She smiled to herself and blushed as she thought about their afternoon of lovemaking -- it had been everything that Folken had promised her it would be and more.

                Snuggling deeper into her husband's embrace, Jindra closed her eyes; but after a while she found that she couldn't go back to sleep.  Moving gently, she sat up and stretched a bit.  Slipping from the bed, she picked up her robe where it lay pooled on the floor among Folken's hastily discarded clothing.   Tying the sash at her waist, she went to the windows and pulled back the sheer curtains and looked out.   The beautiful morning had turned into a wet, dreary afternoon as the rain continued to fall.  With a sigh, she turned away and went to the fireplace.  Kneeling down, she saw that there was a canister of long-handled matches on the floor next to a basket of small logs.

                After a few minutes, Jindra had a small blaze started and patiently fed it until several of the larger pieces of kindling caught.  She carefully added a couple of small logs and replaced the screen.  As she gazed into the fire, Jindra blushed at a picture that came unbidden into her mind of her and Folken making love in front of the fireplace.  So vivid was the scene that she could see the shadows of firelight as they danced across her husband's skin and reflected off his mechanical arm.

                Quickly turning back towards the room, she took the canister of matches and lit a few of the small lamps that were scattered about.  _Very cozy;_ she thought as she saw how the light played on the polished mahogany of the furniture.  Going back towards the bed, she stopped to pick up the clothing from the floor.  Hanging Folken's coat on the back of a small side chair, she looked over at the bed.  Folken had shifted onto his side, his mechanical arm flung across the spot where she had been earlier.  _No, let him sleep . . ._ she said to herself, a sad look in her eyes.  Jindra sighed as she thought about the argument that the two were going to have when he awakened and she wanted to put it off as long as possible.  She stood and watched her sleeping husband for a few more minutes before turning away.  

                 Jindra ran her fingers through her hair as she passed into the small dressing room.  She emerged a few minutes later with a small case and went into the washroom, gently closing the door behind her.

                Folken drifted back towards consciousness, his hand groping on the bed next to him.  Opening one eye, he looked at the pillow opposite him only to find it unoccupied.  Pushing himself up, he looked around the room and noticed that the fireplace had been lit, as well as several lamps.  _Must have been Jin -- but where'd she go?_  He moved to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor.  Yawning, he looked down and saw that his clothes had been picked up as well.

                "Jin?"  He said aloud; but there was no answer.  Getting up, he went over to where his clothes had been folded and neatly stacked.  Grabbing his shirt and trousers, he slipped them on.  As he finished dressing, Folken noticed that the door to the washroom was closed.  Going over to it, he lightly tapped, "Jin?  Are you in there?"

                "I'll be out in a few minutes," came a slightly muffled reply and Folken thought that he could hear the splashing of water.  Folken smiled as he thought about her in the bath.  _No -- let her have some time to herself.  _"Take your time -- it's alright."  He said through the door, just as a low growl sounded in his stomach.  __

                Going over to the front door, he pulled the bell cord.  After a few moments, there was a knock on the door and Folken hastily threw his coat over his right shoulder before answering it.  Trying to keep his right side behind the door, he ordered dinner from the young maid that had answered his call.  The woman looked at with wide eyes as he spoke and gave him a quick curtsey before departing.

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                Jindra stepped out of the washroom, wearing her robe, winding a drying cloth around her head.  "I'm sorry Folken, I didn't mean to take so long . . ." She broke off as she saw the set table and the small cart loaded with covered dishes.

                "I don't know about you, but I'm starving."  Folken came to her and took her hand, leading her towards the table.  "I haven't been able to eat anything for the past two days, I was so nervous."  He raised her hand and kissed it.  "I hope you're hungry, there's enough here to feed a small army."  He said as he pulled a chair out for her.  Jindra kissed his cheek and smiled as she sat down.

                Folken poured out wine and handed her a glass before sitting down across from her.  "I think we should make a toast."  Reaching over, he wound his hand with the wine glass around Jindra's so that they were locked together.  "May the future hold us together with love, faith, devotion and trust."  The two drank together, their eyes on each other.  Holding the lock on their joined arms, Folken looked at her for a few moments.  "I love you Jindra -- you are my heart, my breath, my reason for being."

                Jindra swallowed at the tenderness in his voice.  Disengaging his arm, Folken put his glass down on the table and reached across the small table and touched her cheek.  "You've made me the happiest man in the world.  Despite all the disappointment and heartache that could have separated us, our love has persevered and grown stronger."  He smiled at her, "I've become a better person for having met you Jindra -- for having loved you."

                Jindra blinked her eyes against the tears that she felt forming; but before she could say anything, Folken smiled and gave her a wink,  "All right, let's save all the sweet talk for later.  What I really need is food -- hopefully before it all gets cold."

                Reaching for one of the covered dishes, he lifted the lid and offered the serving spoon to Jindra.  "Beautiful wives first."  Jindra smiled at him and then helped herself to the steaming dish.

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                "Jin, you can't be serious -- it's our wedding day!"  She could hear the anger in his voice.  _I knew he wasn't going to like it . . . _

                Jindra sighed and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.  "Folken . . . you had to know that I couldn't stay the whole night."  She reached out and touched his arm, "Do you think I want to leave you? If I could, I'd lock myself in this room with you for the rest of my life.  I don't ever want to be without you again -- but -- but I can't . . . not after . . ." She shook her head, "I've been gone since early this morning -- I have to go home tonight.  My parents are probably worried about me already . . . I can't do that to them -- not again."  Jindra's voice started to break and she turned away from him as she finished speaking.

                Folken looked at her back for a few moments.  Sighing heavily, he moved towards her, wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his cheek against her hair.  The two stood together silently for a few minutes.  Folken felt Jindra relax against him and he tightened his arms around her as he kissed her hair.  "I hate this -- I hate that we have to hide . . .  gods Jin, we're old enough to get married and we still have to play games like children."  Jindra could hear the frustration in his voice, "I can't wait until we leave here -- we won't have to answer to anyone but ourselves . . . no one will ever be able to come between us."

                He loosened his embrace and turned her to face him.  "Jin . . . ;" Folken hesitated for a moment.  "I know you said you could do this -- but . . . are you sure -- are you sure you'll be able to leave here when the time comes?  You must know that your parents are going to be worried -- and once we're on that ship you won't be able to come back to them."  His eyes searched hers as he spoke.  "I have to know that today wasn't a mistake -- that you're not having second thoughts.  I don't think I could handle that . . ."

                "No!  Our marriage wasn't a mistake -- please Folken, don't -- don't even think that, you know that's not how I feel; and  I am going to leave here with you, but . . ."  Jindra dropped her gaze to the hollow of his throat, not wanting to see the reaction on his face. "But I'm going to do it my way -- and that's why . . ."

                Her voice fell to a whisper, "That's why I'm going to tell them -- I'm going to tell my parents before we go."

                "What?"  Folken dropped his arms and stepped back from her.  "Jin . . . you can't!  You know what will happen . . ."

                "No Folken, I don't!"  Her voice rose as she lifted her eyes back up to his face.  "You're just assuming that they'll try to break us up -- that they'll try to stop us from leaving; but you don't know that for sure.  We're married now, there's not much they can do -- we're both of legal age . . ."

                She shook her head, "I can't just leave them without some kind of explanation.  I don't want them to think that something horrible happened to me or that -- that they drove me away.  I-I-I owe them that much."

                Jindra sighed and turned away from him, going to stand by the window.  "You don't know how hard this has been for me -- to see them everyday and not being able to say anything.  I love them Folken -- as much as I love you."  Her voice softened as she looked out the window.  "With Coren gone, I'm all that they have left.  My father – he . . . he's been  . . .  you don't know what it was like that night when I came home -- I can't put my parents through that again," she turned back to face him; "not even for you.  I married you because I love you Folken, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you . . . but I won't do it at the expense of my parent's feelings."  

                Jindra stepped back towards him until she was facing him once again.  "I-I-I was hoping . . . I thought that -- I thought that we could do it together.  If they see us – see how happy we are . . . I know they won't exactly be thrilled, but -- but maybe they'll at least try to accept it."

                Her voice finally broke, "Gods Folken, I may never see them again -- at least give me the chance to say goodbye."  She turned away from him and sat down on the edge of the bed.

                Folken remained silent for several minutes, his eyes darting glances at Jindra as he thought.  _I've asked her to give up so much for me -- her home, her friends, her family . . . and what if it were my family?  _He snorted;_ hell, my family thinks I'm dead – dragon fodder.  _Folken let out a frustrated sigh, not wanting to pursue that train of thought. 

_                But to just disappear . . . Jin is right, we are legally married, there's nothing they can do about it now.  The worst they could do is throw us out -- gods, that will hurt her even more . . . I just don't want her to get her hopes up . . . they aren't going to accept our marriage -- I know it -- they'll blame it all on me and Jin will be in the middle again.  _He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment; _no matter what we do, someone is going to get hurt . . .  _

Folken sat down on the bed next to his wife and took her hand in his, "When did you want to tell your parents?  I think we should do it as soon as possible -- give them time to get used to the idea.  It'll also give you the chance to spend some time with them before we leave."

                Jindra looked up at him, her gray eyes moist with tears.  "T-T-Thank you, Folken."  Releasing her hand, Folken brushed away her tears with his thumb and kissed her.  Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his cheek on her hair as Jindra laid her head on his chest.  The two remained that way for several minutes.

                It was Jindra who finally broke the silence.  "I guess this qualifies as the first argument of our marriage.  We couldn't even get through the whole day."

                She lifted her head and gave Folken that coy little smile that she knew he loved, "I guess now comes the part where we get to make up."  Folken laughed and smiled at her in return.  "Oh, I don't know . . . I'm not sure if I want to make up with you, Jindra.  I think I might stay mad at you for a little while longer."

                Jindra pulled out of his embrace, put her hands on his chest and pushed him back down on the bed.  "Bet I can change your mind."  She leaned down and kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip as her hands smoothed across his chest.  Lifting her head, she looked at him.  "In fact, I bet you're not angry with me anymore -- are you?"  Her finger traced a path down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his trousers.

                With a growl in his throat, Folken reached up and pulled Jindra down over him.  "Don't think you're going to get your way all the time, my little seductress."  He kissed the hollow of her throat and gently rolled the two of them over so that Jindra was pinned underneath him.  "Most of the time, but not always," he said with a smile.   Rising up to his knees, he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.  Settling back down next to his wife, Folken covered Jindra's mouth with his own while his hands worked at the sash of her robe.

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                Anton Lefebvre sat on the edge of his bunk, reading a letter from one of his sisters when there was a knock on the door.  Leaving the pages on the bed, he rose to answer it.

                "Ah Lefebvre, glad that I caught you in -- we need to discuss a few things."  The man pushed past Anton and entered.  Glancing at the small, sparse room he turned back towards the younger man.  "It seems that things have changed since the last time we spoke."  The man sat down on the bed, noticing the letter on the bed.  "Enjoying some news from home, Sergeant?"

                Anton hastily reached for the papers and quickly refolded them.  "Changed – what's changed?"  He remained standing.

                "Some recent events have come to light which have changed our previous plans."

                Anton narrowed his eyes, "What events?  What are you talking about?"  The man waved a dismissive hand, "It's really of no immediate importance.  But it does mean that our time table has been moved up a bit."

                "How much?"  Lefebvre asked.

                "Three weeks.  This matter must be concluded in three weeks."

                Anton raised his brow, "That's not a lot of time.  Why the hurry?"

                The man shrugged, "Apparently the novelty has worn thin."  The man gave Anton a cold smile, "Just think Lefebvre, in three weeks you'll have your heart's desire.  I hope you'll still think she's worth it when the time comes."  Inside the man was laughing at Anton as he thought about what Lacour and the girl were probably doing right at that moment.  _Oh yes Lefebvre, will you still think so highly of her once you learn she's been whoring herself to Folken Lacour?  Gods, this just gets better and better . . ._

                Anton's eyes narrowed again and his jaw tightened.  "Why don't you just get on with it -- what do you want me to do?"

                The man smiled at him again, "Now that's the attitude I like to see, Lefebvre -- cutting right to the chase.  Why don't you sit and let me tell you what I've planned."

                Anton pulled out the chair from the desk in the corner and faced the man as he laid out his plans for the fall of Folken Lacour.


	50. Chapter Fifty

FIFTY

                Marco Dimetra sat in the darkened room and listened as the knock on his door came once again.  Since returning to his quarters the day before, Marco had locked himself away and had neither seen nor spoken with anyone.  He had not even gone down for dinner the night before or breakfast that morning.  After finally falling into an exhausted sleep, he had awakened shaking and drenched with sweat in the middle of the night.  Unwilling to return to the nightmares that haunted his sleep, Marco had moved to his front room and sat in the chair by the cold fireplace while his gaze stared at nothing.  

                "Marco?  Are you in there -- it's me, Folken."  The knock came again, this time more insistent.  "Marco?"

                Marco cringed; the last person he wanted to see was Folken Lacour.  _Gods please make him go away -- I can't face him, not now._  Marco clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms.  _Please Folken, go away -- forget that you ever met me. _

                "C'mon Marco -- I know you're in there."  Folken reached down and tried the knob, but the door was apparently locked.  The pale-haired man lowered his voice as one of the dog-men servants passed him with a curious look.  "Marco, open the door -- it's important."

                Letting out a sigh that sounded more like a sob, Marco got up and went to the door.  "What is it?" He asked from the other side.

                "Well it's about bloody time -- open up."  

                "Look Lacour, whatever it is can keep until later.  I'm not in the mood for company right now."  Marco's voice sounded harsh.

                Folken frowned at the other man's tone.  "C'mon Marco -- just a couple of minutes.  I've got something for you."

                On the other side of the door, Marco leaned his forehead on the cool wood, "Look Folken -- not today, okay.  Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow."

                Undaunted, Folken tried once again.  "Just a couple of minutes, I swear."__

                Marco squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.  _He's not going to give up . . . just a few minutes; I can do this -- just a few minutes.  _Taking another deep breath, Marco unlocked the door and cracked it open.  "What is it?"  He peeked out the door, blinking his eyes against the light.

                Folken's eyes widened at the sight of his friend.  Marco's hair was tangled and uncombed, his face looked extremely pale and there were shadows underneath his dark eyes.  "Gods Marco, are you alright?  You look ill . . ."

                The other man cut him off, his voice sounding hoarse, "I'm fine . . . I just had a - a rough night.  You know how it is."  Marco tried to smile as if nothing were wrong.  

                Folken looked at him for a moment -- there was something in Marco's forced smile that rang false and a haunted look in his eyes that told a different story.  "Marco . . . what's going on?  What happened to you?"      

                Marco shook his head, "Nothing's going on.  It was just one of those things, you know -- my evening just didn't turn out quite the way I planned.  A little uninterrupted sleep and I'll be good as new."  Before Folken could continue the subject further, Marco opened the door a little more and gestured for the other man to come in.  "Is that what you wanted to give me?" He asked as he closed the door behind Folken.

                "Uh . . . yes, it's from Jin -- well from both us actually.  A thank you gift -- for all your help."  Folken held out the wrapped package.

                 _My help?  Gods, if you only knew. . . _"Thanks, but it really wasn't necessary."  Marco waved his hand dismissively.

                "Well, Jin wanted you to have it.  She made me promise to give it to you as soon as I got back." 

                "Really Folken, I-I wouldn't feel right taking something from you."

                The other man held the parcel back out, "Look Marco, I can't give this back to Jin -- she won't . . . she won't like it.  She really wanted you to have it -- don't make me have to go tell her that you wouldn't accept it."  Folken looked at the other man with pleading eyes and Marco wasn't sure if it was a jest or not.  "Please take it . . . let us thank you for helping us."

                Folken could tell that Marco was going to refuse again, so before the other man could speak he played what he thought was his trump card.  "Jin told me what happened in the carriage on the way to the inn -- I can't believe you made my wife cry on her wedding day.  What kind of cold-hearted man would do something like that?"  He raised his brow at Marco, "The least you could do is take this -- as a sign that you're sorry . . ."

                For the first time since opening the door, Marco gave him a genuine smile.  "You're such a bastard Lacour.  I wonder what that lovely little wife of yours would say if she knew that you were using her good name to manipulate me."

                "I'd be more worried about what she's likely to do if I have to go back and tell her that you refused our gift."  Folken gave Marco a wry smile, "At least it'll be your head she'll be looking for instead of mine . . ."

                Marco shook his head, "Alright -- alright, I give in, you win . . . give it here."  He took the package as Folken offered it once again.  Taking a few steps, Marco put it down on his work table and turned back to his friend.

                "Aren't you going to open it?"  Folken asked him.

                "Uh . . . maybe later.  I was just about to go back to bed . . ." Marco replied.

                Folken shifted his stance a little, "Oh -- well, I kind of wanted to see what it was.  It's from both of us, but-but she picked it out."

                 "Why am I not surprised." Marco said as he faked a yawn.

                "Well you know Jin, she thinks of everything."  Folken looked at Marco once again, "Well, I'll let you get to bed -- you really do look like hell, Marco."

                "Yeah, well you don't look like you got much sleep either Lacour."  The other man shot back.  He watched the blush that crept up Folken's face.  "Although I'm sure you had a much more . . . enjoyable evening than I did."  He gave Folken a weary smile, "Look, I'm about dead tired  . . ." 

                Marco opened the door and Folken looked at him once again as he passed into the hallway.  "I'll see you tomorrow."

                Without a reply, the dark-haired man slightly nodded his head before shutting the door behind his friend.

                Marco took a deep breath as he locked the door.  Turning, he looked at the package on the work table.  _Why the hell did they have to do that?  Stupid, stupid Dimetra -- why did you take it?  _ Marco pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed heavily.  It was a few minutes before he dropped his hands and moved.

                Marco pulled open the heavy drapes that covered his window and he winced as sunlight flooded into his front room.  Turning back towards the room, he went to the small sideboard and reached for the cut-glass decanter there.  He poured out a glass of wine and took a deep swallow.  Setting the half-empty glass down, he once again made his way to his work table and picked up the package that Folken had brought.  He stared at the wrapped parcel for several long moments, almost as if he were waiting for something to jump out at him.

                Steeling himself, Marco started removing the heavy brown paper that covered the package.   As the last of the paper fell away, Marco sat down in the wooden chair next to him and stared at the object in his hands.

                Folken and Jindra's gift was a framed watercolor of the massive city clock, set against a backdrop of dusky skyline.  Instantly Marco knew that Jindra had drawn and painted it herself.  He had seen her painting of the ocean shoreline in Palas on the wall in Folken's quarters and he remembered that he had mentioned it to her once.  _She must have remembered it too. _ 

                Dropping the painting down on the table, Marco covered his face with his hands.  _Gods . . . I wish I never saw you in the tavern that day . . . how I wish I'd never met you -- either of you . . ._

                For the second time in as many days, tears fell from Marco Dimetra's dark eyes.

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                Folken had returned to his own quarters and after changing his clothes, he sat down at his own work table and looked at the drawings and plans still laid out on the scarred wooden surface.  But even as his eyes looked at the papers in front of him, his mind was still focused on Marco's strange behavior earlier.  The dark-haired man had seemed so cold and withdrawn -- in fact Folken had the impression that he was the last person that Marco had wanted to see.

                _I wonder what happened to him since yesterday morning.   He was probably flirting with some girl and ended up in a fight over it. _ As he thought about all the possible things that could have happened to Marco since he had seen him last, Folken suddenly felt the cold chill of jealousy creep up his spine.  _Jin -- why didn't I think of it before?  He's in love with Jin -- that's why he was so cold, why he didn't want to see me . . . I knew it -- damn it I knew it!   All that time they spent together -- gods, how could I have been so blind?  I should have known -- how could he not fall in love with her? _  Unconsciously, he clenched his fists.  _But Jin told me that Marco didn't have any feelings for her . . . maybe she didn't know -- maybe she didn't realize it.  Gods, what a mess . . .  _A hard knock on Folken's door brought him back.

                "Lacour?"

                Steeling himself, Folken rose and went to the door.  Opening it, he gave the man on the other side a slight bow, "Juri . . . please come in.  I was just working on the plans."  Folken stepped back and let the other man into the room.

                "I expected you to be finished this morning, Lacour.  Its past noon already; any chance of you being finished by this evening?"  Juri Selanne's voice held a sarcastic tone as he walked towards Folken's work table.  He picked up one of the drawings and studied it, "We don't have all the time in the world, as I'm sure you're quite aware."  He put the sheet back down on the table and looked at the younger man, "The emperor himself has ordered that our investigation be concluded within the next two weeks.  I'm sure you can understand the gravity of his majesty's request . . ."

                "I-I -- yes, of course . . . I've been working almost non-stop . . ." Folken willed himself not to blush as he lied.

                Juri cocked an eyebrow and gave him a very curious expression.  "Indeed . . . non-stop you say?  Then perhaps you were so engrossed in your work last evening that you didn't hear me knocking on the door?"

                "I-I-I . . . uh . . . l-last night . . . I -- uh, was . . . uh . . ."

                Juri narrowed his eyes and pursed his thin lips.  "You were not here last night -- or much of yesterday either, for that matter.  No, don't try lying to me again -- you aren't very good at it."  The man sat down in the chair in front of Folken's worktable.  "I don't know what's going on with you, Lacour -- or should I say with you and . . . Marco Dimetra, perhaps?"

                "M-M-Marco . . . I don't understand."  Folken's puzzled sounding voice matched the look on his face.  "What's Marco got to do with anything?"

                Juri steepled his fingers as he rested his elbows on the tabletop.  "Come now Folken, I've been around a lot longer  than you.  Although I don't subscribe to such -- such behavior, I am willing to admit that Dimetra does possess certain appealing charms."

                Folken looked even more confused and slowly Juri realized that the younger man really had no idea about what he was eluding to.  _Could the boy truly be that innocent -- even after being here for almost three years?_

                Juri dropped his hands to the table, "Look Lacour, whatever you choose to get up to on your own time is your business.  But when it starts to interfere with your work, then it becomes my concern."  He abruptly stood and walked back towards the door.  "I will give you the rest of this day and tonight -- I want your report delivered to my quarters before the bell sounds for breakfast tomorrow."

                The older man opened the door and turned back before leaving, "And just so I know that your full attention will be on the job at hand -- indeed on the remainder of our work -- I will tell you that Marco Dimetra is no longer a party to this investigation; he has been officially relieved of his duties regarding this matter."  Juri's eyes were cold, "That being the case, I trust that I do not have to remind you what that means?"

                Folken swallowed and nodded his head.  "N-N-No sir . . . I-I mean I-I understand . . . I will not discuss the investigation with him or anyone else."

                "See that you don't Lacour . . . I'm sure you have no wish to make the emperor displeased with you."  Juri Selanne turned away and firmly shut the door behind him.

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                Folken carried the heavily laden plate up the stairs as he made his way back to his quarters.  Immediately after Juri had left him earlier in the afternoon, he had settled back to work.   As he poured over the last revision of the weapons schematics, the dinner bell tolled and his stomach loudly answered in response.

                Rubbing his fingers across his tired eyes, Folken stood and stretched as his stomach once again tried to prod him towards food.  _Yeah, yeah -- I get the message.  Damn, I can't believe its dinner time already._  He glanced down at the drawings spread out on the table.  _I'm nowhere near being finished . . ._ His stomach growled.  _I'll just go down and get something -- I can eat while I work._   Sighing, Folken left his quarters and went down to the common dining room.

                He had just reached the hallway that led to his quarters when he saw the man.   _It's him  . . . but what's he doing here?_  Folken tried not to stare at the dark-haired man as he walked towards him.  _He's the one that was with Jin at Coren's funeral . . . but wasn't he wearing a uniform from the academy?_  The man was now wearing the standard uniform of the tower guards, the yellow braid looped over his shoulder signaling his rank.  As the man reached Folken, he suddenly looked up and their eyes met.  Folken almost stepped back at the cold, dark blue gaze that the man leveled at him.

                Folken let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as the man brushed past him nearly knocking the plate from his hand.  "Hey -- watch it!"

                The man stopped and turned around, "Excuse me, sir."  His voice was cold as he spit out the last word, as if it were a curse.  He gave Folken a stiff bow and turned away.

                Folken suddenly felt angry at the man's manner, "I think you forget your place, Sergeant."

                The man stopped and turned back around.  Once again Folken was struck by the cold anger that shone in the man's eyes.  "I beg your pardon, sir.  I'm on an urgent errand; forgive me for any slight you feel I've shown you."  His apology was formal, but there was a sarcastic under tone in his voice.

                "Well, just try to be a little more careful – and respectful next time."  Folken hurriedly replied, wishing that he had just let the man go.

                The man bowed once again, "Yes, sir.  Again, my apologies."  He turned and quickly walked away.

                Folken hurried back to his quarters, grateful to be in the security of his own rooms.  _Weird . . . how the hell did he get here?_  He speared a piece of roast beef.  _I wonder how Jin knows him.  She never said she knew anyone in the tower.  I'll have to ask her . . ._  Trying to push all thoughts of the encounter from his mind, Folken once again returned to his work in between bites of dinner.

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                The small clock on the table in the front room chimed as Folken sat staring at the sheet in front of him.  The young man had been sitting there staring at the same drawing for some time, his brain seemingly unwilling to accept what he had discovered.

                It was some minutes later before he finally moved.  Sitting back from the table, he closed his eyes as he tried to stifle the sob that threatened to escape from his throat.  Opening his eyes, he looked back down at the page.  Running the fingertips of his right hand across the drawing, he felt the tears slip from his eyes.

                Unable to hold back any longer, a hoarse cry escaped from his lips and he buried his face in his arms as they folded across the paper.  _Gods -- no . . . please -- no . . . it can't be  . . . I have to be wrong . . . please -- please . . . Oh Coren . . . gods . . ._

                "NO!"  Folken Lacour shouted out into the empty room.  _I did it -- gods help me -- I did it.  I killed him . . . it's my fault . . . I killed him . . ._


	51. Chapter FiftyOne

FIFTY-ONE

                Juri Selanne looked up at the young man standing in front of him as he finished reading the sheaf of papers in his hand.  Folken had been at his door right after dawn, the report on the weapons systems in his hand.  Without a word, he had handed over the pages and stood quietly in front of Juri's desk while the older man scanned over the contents.  Juri had glanced up at Lacour several times as he read, but his expression had been unreadable. 

                "So . . .  it appears that our fears have been realized."  He dropped the report on the desk, "Are you sure about this Lacour?"  

                Folken cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded a little hoarse.  "The malfunction was due to a design error in the weapons trigger."

                "Before I take this to Emperor Dornkirk I must be absolutely certain that what you've discovered is correct -- there can be no room for error."

                "I'm absolutely certain, Juri."

                Juri sighed, "Damn it all the nine hells -- the military will have a field day with this."  He rose from his chair and stepped around to the front of the desk.  "It was Dimetra wasn't it?  I don't know why the hell he was assigned to this project in the first place.  The little tart has no talent for design or mechanics . . ."

                Folken dropped his eyes and swallowed.  "I-I-It was my fault."  His voice was a whisper. 

                "What -- what are you talking about?"  

                "T-T-The fault was mine . . . the trigger mechanism was my design, therefore I'm responsible for what happened."

                Juri swore under his breath and Folken could feel the anger that radiated off the other man.  "Damn it, I knew you weren't ready for this kind of delicate work.    But who could deny the emperor's will?  Oh no your majesty, who am I to judge if the boy is ready or not -- I've only been designing mecha for the last twenty years!"  He threw up his hands as he finished.  "Look where the emperor's will has gotten us.  Do you know what you've done, Lacour?  Do you have any idea?"

                Folken spun around and faced the other man, his eyes cold.  "Of course I do!  I've killed two men -- one of whom was my friend . . ."

                "Spare me your self-pity, boy -- it's all irrelevant now."  Juri took a breath and closed his eyes for a moment.  As his gaze returned to Folken, there was hardness in his expression, "I should make you present this to the emperor -- but I doubt it would do any good.  He'd still believe that he did the right thing."

                The older man stepped back behind his desk and slid down in the leather chair.  "Gods, this is all we need -- the military was just waiting for something like this to happen . . ." He trailed off and seemed lost in thought.  After a few minutes, he spoke again.  "Well what's done is done -- you can't turn back time or bring back the dead.  All we can do now is try to keep this out of the military's hands and make sure that it doesn't happen again."

                He looked back up at Folken.  "You are not to say one word about this to anyone -- do you understand me?  If I even suspect for one moment that you've broken silence . . . you'll wish you'd never set foot in Zaibach before I'm through with you.  Don't think that the emperor will intervene on your behalf either, Lacour.  After I present your findings, I can almost guarantee that you won't be so high on his list of favorites for quite sometime to come."

                "I-I-I'm sorry, Juri -- you don't know how much.  I-I . . ."

                "Save your apologizes for someone who cares, Lacour.  At the moment nothing you say is going to make any difference as far as my opinion of you goes.  You're a bigger incompetent than that pretty-boy whore Dimetra."  Juri waved a dismissive hand, "Get out of here -- I need to think."

                Folken bowed and turned towards the door.  As his hand reached for the doorknob, he heard Juri muttering under his breath.  ". . . damn outlander brats . . . should have left the idiot to die . . . going to ruin us all . . ."  

                Biting his lip in anger, Folken swung open the door and closed it hard behind him.  He stood in the hallway and took several deep breaths.   _. . . And the worst part is that what he said was true -- every word of it.  _ Shaking his head to clear it, Folken started down the hallway and the quiet solace of his quarters.

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                Folken sat on the bed in his quarters, a dark wooden box across his knees.  Unlatching the lid, he opened it and looked down at the glittering objects inside:  a long, slightly curved sword and a thin gold ring.  He picked up the ring and placed it on the third finger of his left hand.  His gaze returned to the sword as he lightly ran his fingertips over the cool, shining metal.  A tear slid down his cheek as he thought about Jindra -- and he wondered how he was ever going to be able to tell her that he had been responsible for Coren's death.  

                Folken suddenly winced -- he had inadvertently nicked two of his fingers on the sharp edge of the sword.  He stared at the blood that welled up from the cuts.  _How the hell do you tell your wife that you're the person who killed her brother?_

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                Jindra was sitting in the library, absently flipping through the pages of a large book on the history of Asturia.  The clock on the mantle over the fireplace chimed the hour, causing her to glance up and note the time.  _Where the hell is he?  I can't believe he's going to make me do this alone. _ Folken was supposed to have been there over an hour ago so that the two of them could tell Jindra's parents that they had been married.  _He promised that he would be here . . . gods, I hope he didn't get into trouble._  Her fingers touched the front of her dress and she felt the outline of the pendant that Folken had given her underneath the cloth as it rested against her skin.  Jindra had also taken her wedding ring off and put it on the pendant's chain.  Although she didn't want to hide the beautiful presents that Folken had given her, Jindra knew that her parents would ask even more questions were they to see them.

                It had been about nine o'clock in the evening when Jindra had left Folken at the inn and returned home.  Folken had again pleaded with her to stay for the rest of the night, but once again she insisted that she had to leave.  She knew that he was angry with her -- and she supposed he had every right to be.  It was their wedding day after all; and yet there she was running home to her parents instead of staying with her husband.  _It was probably the strangest wedding day on record._  But Jindra couldn't help smiling as she thought about the afternoon that she and Folken had spent making love.  She thought that their night together at the hunting lodge had been special -- but it had been nothing compared to the love and tenderness that Folken had shown her in that cozy little suite while the rain poured down outside.  Perhaps it had been the spirit of the moment or perhaps it had been the knowledge that they were finally man and wife.  But whatever it was, Jindra wanted nothing more than to be back in her husband's arms as he made love to her until her toes curled.  Leaving Folken behind at the inn had been one of hardest things she had done in her life -- but she knew that it was the last time that she was ever going to leave him, so it didn't hurt nearly as much as it could have.  _When we step on that ship for Palas, I swear no one is ever going to separate us again.  You won't be able to pry me away from Folken Lacour._

                Just as she knew they would be, Jindra parents had been concerned and worried about her.  She had lied and told them that she had spent the day with Laurelle Dunbar, and that she had been invited to stay for dinner.  She had apologized for not sending word of where she was, but she had lost track of the time.  She told them that she had been playing with Laurelle's year-old daughter and hadn't realized how late it had gotten.  Since her parents knew Laurelle and her husband Matthieu, their anger dissipated at bit and Jindra had managed to escape with just a light scolding.

                She had felt so bad about the lie -- especially since it seemed to have come so naturally to her.  If she hadn't known the truth, she would have convinced herself.   As she sat in the library, Jindra tried to count how many lies she had told her parents in the last few weeks leading up to her secret marriage to Folken -- but it wasn't too long before she sighed and gave up.  _It's as if the last two months have been one gigantic lie -- my parents probably won't ever trust me again . . ._

                Just then the door opened and Erich Roh looked in.  "Ah, there you are."  He stepped into the room, "I wondered if I might be able to tempt you into joining me for lunch." He sat down next to his daughter.   "Your mother went out earlier with Bethanne and left me all alone." 

                Jindra hesitated, "I-I-I'm not really hungry . . ."

                "We could go back to that tavern you took me to that time."

                She gave him a small smile, "You must mean the Northgate Tavern."

                "As I recall the food was outstanding, even if the clientele was a bit dodgy."  Her father replied playfully.

                Jindra shook her head, "I'm sorry father . . . I'm just not in the mood to go out somewhere -- I'm not hungry."

                "I know that you didn't come down for breakfast this morning, Jindra.  Your mother is worried about you -- she thinks that you might be ill.  I can ask Simon to stop by if you don't feel well."

                "No, that's not necessary; I'm quite alright -- I feel fine."

                Her father looked at her, "But there is something wrong -- you've been hiding in here all morning."

                "I'm not hiding -- I just wanted to read for a little while."

                Erich glanced down at the book in his daughter's lap.  "A treatise on Asturian history?"  He frowned at her, "What's really wrong, love?  Don't lie and tell me nothing, because I can see it on your face."

                Jindra looked down at the book in her lap and nervously clutched her hands together.  _I can't stand this -- I have to tell him the truth.  Damn you Folken, where are you?_  "I-I-I . . ." Jindra took a breath to steel her nerves.

                Erich gave his daughter a sharp look, "What is it, Jindra?"  He reached and took her hand. 

                Jindra squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she swallowed the lump in her throat.  Her eyes darted a quick look up at her father's concerned face.  "Y-Y-You're not going to like it."

                "It can't be that bad, love."  Erich released her hand and tilted her face up towards him.  "I'm not some horrible ogre, Jindra.  If you've gotten yourself into some kind of trouble then I need you tell me what it is so that I can help you."

                "I-I-I'm not in t-trouble . . . at least not in the way that I think you mean."  Jindra felt a slight blush creep up her face.

                Erich raised his eyebrow, "Excuse me young lady, but that thought never even entered my mind; and I'm shocked that it entered yours."  Jindra felt her blush deepen and she once again dropped her eyes.  "Really Jindra, sometimes I wonder if you have any sense of decorum at all."  Her father scrubbed at his face with his hand, "Well at least we know you haven't compromised yourself and brought scandal to the family; so what is wrong?  What is so horrible that you're afraid to tell me if it isn't that?"

                Jindra was silent for a few minutes while she tried to gather her courage.  Her voice was very soft when she finally spoke.  "I-It's about . . . it's about Folken."  She paused, waiting for an outburst from her father; but surprisingly, it never came.  Taking another deep breath, she continued.  "I've been seeing him . . . and he -- he asked me to marry him again."  She glanced up at her father's face, but his expression was unreadable -- his eyes cool as he looked at her.  "I-I-I told him yes . . . and we -- we . . ." Jindra broke off as her nerve started to fail.  _I can't -- I can't do it!  Oh gods -- I can't do this alone.  I thought I could, but I can't. _  She took several deep breaths as she squeezed her eyes shut.

                "I already know, Jindra."  Erich's voice broke into her thoughts.  "Even though I never said anything to you about it -- I guessed that you had been seeing him again."  Her father's voice was soft, but she could hear the sadness in it and it made her heart clench.  "I'm disappointed of course -- I've tried to make you see that the two of you don't have any chance at a future together . . . and what father wants his daughter to have her heart broken?   You're just too stubborn and willful; but that's our fault I suppose -- your mother and I."

                Jindra bit her lip as she felt tears welling up in her eyes.  _ I don't want to hurt him -- but I can't leave it like this.  I have to finish it.  He's going to hate me -- but I can't lie anymore. _ Her hand strayed once again to the pendent and she clutched it, hoping that it would lend her the courage to finish.   Swallowing down her fear, she reached underneath the book and pulled out several folded sheets of paper and held them out to her father.

                Erich looked at his daughter for a moment before taking the pages from her trembling hand.  Unfolding them, he looked down.  It was only a few seconds before his breath caught in his throat and the tears sparked in his eyes.

                 Even though her father had seen the written proof from the documents in his hand, Jindra still felt that she had to confess the words aloud.  "Folken and I were married the day before yesterday."  He voice broke as she finished, her own tears starting to trickle down her face.

                Erich Roh sat unmoving for several minutes -- his heart and mind in turmoil.  He couldn't believe that his own daughter would go behind his back and wed a man that could only bring misery and heartbreak to her life.  _What did I do wrong?  Did I love her too much -- let her have her way too much?  How could she do this to us?  How could she ruin the rest of her life like this?_

                Jindra watched her father as he started to shake with anger.  She started to reach out her hand towards him when he balled her marriage documents up in his fist and threw them towards the unlit fireplace.  Jindra snatched back her hand as her father's cold, angry stare fastened on her.  For the first time in her life, she felt afraid of her father.  She had seen him angry -- but the look on his face and in his eyes as he stared at her was something beyond mere anger.   "F-F-Father . . ."

                Erich abruptly stood up.  "I can't speak to you right now, Jindra -- in fact, I can't bear to be in the same room with you at this moment."  He tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling as he took a deep breath.  Letting his head fall back down, he looked at her with sad eyes.  "I don't know what we did to make you hate us so much that you would do something like this to hurt us.  Your mother and I tried to raise you the best that we could, but obviously we failed somewhere along the way.   Now because of our failure, you've ruined the rest of your life."  Without another word, Erich turned away and left the room.

                Jindra sat for a few moments while her tears ran unchecked down her face.  Slowly rising from the sofa, she walked over towards the fireplace and picked up the crushed papers on the floor.  Clutching them to her chest, she slid to her knees as a sob escaped from her throat.  

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                "I take it everything went well?"  The man's voice inquired.

                "Yes.  I switched the plans while he was away from his quarters -- but it was close -- he almost caught me.  I was in the hallway when he came up the stairs."

                "Did he recognize you?"

                "No, I don't think so.  It's been over a year since we met -- and it had been dark out."

                "Good, very good." Came the reply with a hint of satisfaction.

                "Now what?"

                "Now we wait.  He was to see Selanne this morning.  No doubt Juri has gotten the bad news.  He's probably still mulling over what to do about it."

                "What about the other one -- Dimetra?"

                The man smiled, "Oh, no need for you to worry about dear little Marco.  I've taken care of him -- personally.  He will do what I tell him to."

                "But what if Lacour doesn't do it -- what if he keeps silent?"

                The man waved a dismissive hand, "That is very unlikely -- the boy still has too much of a conscious.  Have no fear Sergeant, you'll have your reward soon enough."  The man rose and stepped towards the door, "I'll keep in touch -- try not to leave the tower if at all possible."

                As the door closed, Anton Lefebvre allowed himself a small smile.  _Soon my love . . . soon you'll be mine -- as you were meant to be.  You'll thank me Jindra -- you'll fall on your knees and thank me . . ._


	52. Chapter FiftyTwo

FIFTY-TWO

            Folken Lacour rested his cheek against his wife's hair while she cried in his arms.  _Damn it all – it wasn't supposed to be like this . . . Jin never should have had to do it alone – I should have been there with her . . . it's all my fault . . ._

            Against Folken's express wishes, Jindra had sent a note to him at the sorcerer's tower and pleaded with him to meet her.  From the tone of her words, Folken had guessed that something dreadful had happened, even though she had not given him any details.  Jindra was aware of the risks involved in sending a message to him at the tower and Folken knew that she would of done so only if it were an emergency.

             When he had entered the private reading room at the Marchment Bookshop, he had found Jindra pale and trembling as she sat curled up on the couch.  Folken had gone immediately to her side and with a sob, his wife had just about thrown herself into his arms.  It had taken him several minutes to calm Jindra down enough so that he could find out what had happened.  He had been expecting the worse and wasn't too surprised to learn what had happened.  In halting words, Jindra told Folken what had happened with her father, and her mother's reaction later, when she had broken the news about their secret marriage.  As she finished speaking, Jindra's tears once again overwhelmed her while Folken held her and murmured comforting words as he rested his cheek against her hair.

            It was quite sometime before Jindra cried herself out and silence crept back into the room.  Folken put his hand under his wife's chin and lifted her face up towards him.  He felt something within him well up as he looked at Jindra's red eyes and tear streaked face.  _I should have been there with her – she wanted us to tell them together . . . and as usual, I let her down.  _

_            Folken gently brushed Jindra's hair back from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear; she had let her hair grow longer again for him.  "I'm sorry Jin – I should have been there with you;" he kissed her forehead.  "You never should have had to go through that alone – I'm so sorry . . ." _

            "I-I-I waited . . . I waited for you.  B-But my f-father was there and – and I  . . . I didn't want to lie to him anymore – I just wanted to have it all out in the open . . . and now – now he won't even talk to me . . . he looks at me like I'm a stranger – like he doesn't know me." Jindra closed her eyes and buried her face in Folken's jacket as her tears started once again.  "H-H-He hates me!"

            _Gods, how I hate this – we shouldn't have to go through things like this.  Why does everything have to be so hard?  Folken tightened his arms around Jindra and kissed the top of her head.  __I can't wait until we leave this place – until we leave all this pain and heartache behind . . ._

_            As he held his wife in the circle of his arms, Folken's thoughts once again returned to Jindra's brother; and his own part in Coren's untimely death.  He knew that he would have to eventually tell her – there was no way that he would be able to keep such a dire revelation from her.  But now was not the time – Folken didn't think he could bring himself to heap even more misery on the situation by telling Jindra the truth about her brother's death.  __I will tell her – I need to tell her . . . but I'm so afraid of what will happen when I do . . . I know she's going to hate me . . ._

            Folken Lacour felt the tears as they slipped down his face and dropped to mingle in his wife's dark reddish-brown hair.  _I don't know what I'd do if she left me . . ._

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            Anton Lefebvre was walking down the hallway toward the main guardroom when he saw Folken Lacour coming towards him.  As the outlander apprentice came closer, Lefebvre thought that he looked unusually pale and sad.  _Looks like the freak is starting to feel a little guilty . . .  Anton quickly dropped his eyes as the two men passed each other._

            He was startled when Lacour called out to him.  "Excuse me Sergeant . . ." 

            Lefebvre turned around, "Yes sir?"

            Folken came closer, "I-I know this is a rather strange question; but, do I know you?  You seem very familiar to me.  When I saw you in the hall the other night I was sure that I knew you from somewhere."

            _Damn it all!  I was hoping he wouldn't recognize me.  Anton clenched his fists as he tried to keep his voice neutral.  "Yes, I believe we have met before; but it was well over a year ago – I wouldn't have expected you to remember, as it was very brief."  He inclined his head slightly, "Anton Lefebvre." _

            "Lefebvre . . . now I remember – it was at Coren Roh's going away dinner . . . we met on the outside terrace."  Folken looked puzzled, "But I could almost swear that you were wearing a cadet's dress uniform from the academy when we met."

            "Yes . . . I was . . ." Anton said without any further elaboration.

            Folken was about to ask the other man how he came to be a guard in the sorcerer's tower, but there was something in Lefebvre's eyes that made him have second thoughts.  He regarded Anton for a few moments before he spoke again.  "I-I heard you speak at Coren's funeral . . . the two of you must have been very good friends."

            Lefebvre nodded, "Yes, Coren was like a brother to me – his family had become like my own.  It was such a horrible tragedy for everyone, but his sister took it especially hard.  The two of them were extremely close."  Anton's eyes were cool as he looked at Folken.  "I only wish that I could have done more for her."  He saw Folken's eyes narrow slightly and inwardly he smiled.  _A bit jealous, are we?  Why don't we see how much? _

            "I tried to be a source of comfort for her – she was so distraught, especially right after the funeral.  She and I were always close and I knew that she needed someone to be there for her and I was more than willing to offer whatever support I could.  I like to think that Coren would have wanted it that way – he always encouraged me to see his sister . . . I think that he was hoping that Jindra and I would fall in love with each other."  Anton watched the emotions that played across Folken's face, "But as you and I both know, Jindra's heart already belonged to another." 

            "How . . .?"  Folken looked down for a moment before raising his eyes back up to the dark-haired man across from him.  "She told you – Jin told you about us."

            "Oh yes, dear little Jindra couldn't wait to throw you up in my face."  Anton's eyes blazed and his voice was ice cold.  "I could have given her everything – a home, a family, a name."  He spat out the last word, gratified to see the effect it had on Folken.  "But no, she refused me; and instead chose some upstart outlander freak that had neither money nor a future to offer her.  Yet I was the one who held her hand and tried to soothe away her grief – not you; and just where were you Lacour?  You certainly weren't at Jindra's side when she needed you the most – and why was that?"    

            Unconsciously, Lefebvre had stepped closer -- until the two men were just a foot apart.  "Was it because you knew that you couldn't be seen with her in public?  Or was it because her parents would have thrown you out right on the spot?"  Anton's eyes narrowed as he gave Folken a sly smile, "Or was it something more?  Was there some other reason that kept you away?"

            Lefebvre watched what little color there was in Lacour's face drain away.  "I know quite a lot of things about you Folken Lacour," he put an emphasis on Folken's surname.  "Things that might make Jindra see you in a slightly different light were she to learn of them."

            Folken's voice was just as cold as Anton's as he replied, "Jindra knows everything there is to know about me – I've held nothing back from her."  This time, it was Lefebvre who was startled, "If you're trying to insinuate something about where I came from and who I am, then you're wasting your time.  Jin knows everything – I told her myself."  Folken couldn't help rubbing it in just a little more, "As you can see, she didn't turn me away.  In fact, my confession only brought us even closer together."

            Anton clenched his fists again and his eyes reflected the hate and fury that burned in him.  "How can you stand there like some kind of smug little bastard knowing that you've ruined Jindra's life?  I know about the oaths that you took when came here – so how can you possibly believe that you could ever give her the kind of life that she deserves?  If you really loved Jindra you would never have put her in such danger – you know what will happen to her if the two of you are found out!  I've heard the rumors – do you really want her to become another one of those disappearing inconvenient women?"

            Folken's eyes blazed with a fire of their own, "No one will ever hurt Jindra as long as I have a breath left in my body.  I made a pledge to her – a commitment – which only my death will break.  But she knew the risks involved when she gave me her heart, and it is the strength of her love that has kept us together when I was sure that we didn't have a chance.  She and I know the chance that we're taking just by even speaking with one another, let alone planning any kind of future together.  But we are willing to take that chance . . ."

            Lefebvre put his hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip, "I swear I'd kill you right now if I thought I could get away with it!  I won't let you endanger Jindra's life – I'll see you dead first before that happens!"  He sneered at Folken, "I know there is something else going on with you Lacour and I will find out what it is.  Maybe then she'll listen to me and see you for what you really are.  Hopefully I'll be able to save her before it's too late." 

            "Then what Lefebvre – you'll force her into marrying you?  I'm sure her father would be more than happy to give his consent – or has your recent removal from the academy lowered Erich Roh's opinion of you?"  Folken could see that his words had stung Anton hard, for the look that the man gave him bordered on murderous.

            "Unlike you, Jindra is well aware of the particulars of my – my leaving the academy, as is her father.  I had nothing to hide from either of them – what happened was my own fault and I take full responsibility for it – I am man enough to do that.  Again, unlike you, I am also man enough not to put the woman I love into unnecessary danger . . ."

            "So, that's what all this is really about – you're still in love with Jindra.  You hate me because I have her and you don't – you're jealous."  

            "Don't flatter yourself Lacour.  If you were any other man – any other honorable man – then I would let Jindra make her choice.  But the mere fact of what you are – what you've given your oath to be -- has changed that.  I will admit that I still love her – and I'd be more than willing to step aside for another man if I knew that Jindra really loved him and that he could take care of her properly and protect her.  But I don't believe either of those things to be true where you're concerned.  Jindra may be infatuated with you but I don't believe that she truly loves you – and I know damn well you can't provide for her or keep her safe from harm.  The only thing she could ever hope for with you is that she manages to escape with her life – never mind with her reputation still intact."

            "You're the one who's infatuated Lefebvre, no I take that back – obsessed.  I don't know if it's because you feel you owe something to Coren – to look after his sister or some such; but if you know that Jindra doesn't love you, why do you refuse to let her go?   You can lie and try to convince yourself that Jindra doesn't love me – but deep down you know it's true."  _Should I tell him?  Will that be enough to convince him?  No, it'll only make matters worse . . . he'll probably bring the whole tower down on us and then what?_

            "Perhaps Jindra doesn't love me in quite the same way, but someone has to make her see some sense and see the consequences of what she's chosen.  Her parents have obviously turned a blind eye to the situation – something that I find very hard to believe.  Someone has to have some concern for her and try to protect her from herself."

            "You think you're the man for the job, Lefebvre?  You'll excuse me if I question your objectivity, but don't you think Jindra is old enough to know her own heart and make her own decisions?"

            "Just because the law says she's an adult, doesn't necessarily mean that Jindra is grown up enough to realize just what kind of trouble and ruin she is bringing on herself by remaining with you – and I don't think she understands half of what could happen to her if the two of you are found out.  Don't you have any concern for her safety whatsoever Lacour?  Don't you care about what they will do to her?"

            "Of course I do!  A day doesn't go by that I don't worry about her – about what could happen to her . . . I don't think I would be able to live with myself if something happened to her."  Unable to hold back any longer, Folken's voice started to break.  "But I can't let her go -- I can't . . . I love her too much – I need her too much."

            Anton silently regarded him for a few moments, his dark blue eyes still cold.   His voice was softer however, when he at last spoke, "Jindra is unlike any other woman that I have ever met.  Though she may not be the most beautiful girl that I've seen or known, it is the beauty that lies within her heart that makes her so special."  

            He looked away from Folken as he continued, "I used to listen to Coren talk about her – about her art, her gentle and giving nature, her sense of humor – and although I had never met her until that night of the party, I fell in love with her.  When I finally did see her for the first time – I felt as if I had just stepped into a dream.  When she smiled at me it was as if the sun itself had come out and shined itself down on me.  When Coren left, I knew how despondent Jindra was – how much she missed him; and I tried to take his place in her life – I tried to be like a brother to her, but what I felt for her was more than just what a brother would feel for a sister.  I fell in love with her – deeply in love with her . . . and I asked her to be my wife."  Lefebvre lapsed into silence for a few moments as Folken watched the profile of his face.

            The dark-haired man turned back towards Folken, "When she refused me . . . when she told me that she couldn't ever love me the way that I loved her – something inside of me just snapped . . . a rage unlike anything I had ever felt in my life swept over me . . . and – and I said such things to her that made me feel ashamed for over a year."

            Anton's voice took on an icy tone yet again, "But more than that was the hate – the hate that burned within me that she would choose you over me; and I learned to hate you with such a passion that it's all I can do not to run you through and cut out your heart right now."

            His eyes bored into Folken's, "I will never stop hating you Folken Lacour – and I will find a way to come between the two of you.  I know that something is going on within the tower – something having to do with the accident that took Coren's life and I will find out what it is.  You had better hope that it doesn't involve you Lacour – because if I find out you had anything at all to do with it, I won't hesitate to go straight to Erich Roh and then we'll see just how much Jindra really does love you."

            Folken felt the sweat roll down his back as he tried to steady his breathing.  _Gods, how could he know – is that why he's here, did Jindra's father have him placed here to spy on the tower and find out the truth?  He'll ruin everything!  He'll turn Jin against me before I even have a chance to explain to her what happened -- that it was really an accident._

            Anton Lefebvre watched Folken for a few moments wondering what kind of thoughts were passing through the other man's mind at that moment.  _I'd be worried too, if I were him.  I wonder if Jindra will slap him or if she'll just turn away?  Gods, how I wish I could be there when it happened; then when it's all over, she'll see me there waiting for her – waiting to comfort her.  I'll be the one that she turns to, the one that her heart will call out to.  She'll be mine – as she was meant to be._

            Lefebvre put his hand on the hilt of his sword as he spoke, "I'm watching you Lacour – never forget that.  When the truth finally comes out, I'll be there.  I'll be there to make sure that you get everything that you deserve and that Coren Roh is avenged."  The dark-haired man turned and walked away, continuing down the hall until he reached the door to the main guardroom.  Without looking back, Anton Lefebvre opened the door and stepped inside.

            Folken felt a chill as he stood in the middle of the hallway and watched Lefebvre walk away from him.  _Why didn't we just leave the day we got married – we could have gone overland . . . why?   It's all going to come crashing down, I just know it . . . Jin will hate me – she'll leave me and then I'll have nothing . . . my life will be nothing.  Why?  Why did this have to happen?  Why?_

            Quickly turning back down the hallway, Folken Lacour hurried towards his quarters; his heart in turmoil and his eyes moist with unshed tears. 

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            "I can't believe you could be so stupid, Lefebvre!  What ever possessed you to confront him like that?"

            Anton smiled at the man, "You should have seen the look on his face . . ."

            "You've more than likely ruined everything." 

            "Nonsense, all I've done is crawl under his skin a little – make him nervous.  He'll have no choice but to tell her now – and if he doesn't then it's the perfect set up for me to do it.  Either way, she'll end up despising him – then you get what you want and so do I."

            "I still don't like it – you took a great risk . . ."

            Anton's eyes narrowed, "How do you know what happened between us anyway?  Are you spying on me now?"

            "I don't like to call it spying Sergeant; I prefer to think of it as watching out for my own interests.  I hate to break your bubble Lefebvre, but I don't trust you anymore than I trust anyone else; which means that the only person in this place that I do trust is myself."  The man raised his eyebrow at Lefebvre's expression, "Don't take it personally, but trusting anyone in this tower is like sticking a knife in your own heart."

             "We had an agreement . . ."

            "I am well aware of that, but I've been in this tower almost as long as you've been alive, Sergeant – I learn from my mistakes and I don't make them again.  As long as everything works out as it should, then I will uphold my end of our agreement.  But if you continue to jeopardize our plans with your macho posturing, then I may have to withdraw my earlier consent.  I cannot allow you blow this whole thing open because you can't control your temper – or your lust for the girl."

            Anton bristled at the man's words, "I won't allow you to speak of her in that manner . . ."

            The man snorted, "That's all she's good for Lefebvre – that's all any woman is good for;" he gave the younger man a smirk, "or man for that matter."  He smiled at the revulsion that he saw on Anton's face.  "Such a conservative you are Sergeant."   He moved closer, "Haven't you ever wondered Lefebvre, wondered what it would feel like?  Wondered what kind of pleasure you could experience?" 

            The man was only inches away and Anton could feel the man's breath on his cheek as he spoke, "You're a very attractive man Lefebvre . . . I've always had a soft spot for brunettes . . . and those eyes – I bet they would be absolutely beautiful filled with tears . . ."

            Anton jerked away, "Get away from me – you . . . you filthy . . . you're disgusting . . ."

            The man laughed, "Such spirit – I like that too."  He sobered a bit, "Now the very enchanting Miss Roh . . . those eyes of hers – so expressive and brilliant . . . a man could get lost in a pair of eyes like that . . . "

            "I'll gut you like a fish if you even lay one finger on her . . ."

            "Aren't you planning on using her for the same purpose Lefebvre?  Don't tell me you have no intention of bedding the girl – "

            Anton clenched his fists and wished that he was still wearing his sword.  "I'm not like you – I will not force myself on her and take her against her will.  I am going to make Jindra my wife; it is the honorable thing to do."

            The man smiled and tried to keep from laughing, "Such an innocent you are Sergeant – it's almost refreshing."  _Won't he be surprised when he learns the truth about the pure and innocent Miss Jindra Roh – or should I say Mrs. Lacour?  So much for her honor . . . this just gets better and better.  I'll be sorry to see it all end – I haven't had this much fun in years. _

            The man turned towards the door, "As much as I'd like to continue shocking your old-fashioned sensibilities Lefebvre, I do have actual work that needs my attention."  He gave Lefebvre a pointed look, "I won't warn you again to stay away from Lacour – you are not to do anything unless I tell you to, understand."

            Anton merely nodded and watched as the man let himself out.  _Disgusting lout . . . gods this place makes my skin crawl . . . I can't believe he would actually – and with other men . . . it's sick . . . he's as bad as that whore Dimetra . . .  the sooner I get away from this twisted place the better. _


	53. Chapter FiftyThree

_FIFTY-THREE_

            Folken Lacour could hardly believe that a week ago he had felt like the happiest man on the face of Gaea when he and Jindra had been quietly married and then spent a blissful afternoon making love and planning their future together; and yet in the span of six days, his life had been reduced to a shambles and was continuing to slide even further down by the minute – or so it seemed.

            First had been Jindra's confrontation with her parents over their marriage – Folken still berated himself for not being at her side when she broke the news to them.  He had not wanted her tell them at all, at least not until it was time for them to leave Zaibach.  But Jindra had insisted, saying that she didn't want to hide it from them and that they deserved to know the truth.   She truly had believed that once the initial shock of the announcement wore off, that Erich and Doreena Roh would accept the marriage – and their new son-in-law.  Jindra had been devastated by her parent's reaction and although she did not say it aloud, Folken believed that perhaps she was regretting her decision to secretly marry him.  When he tried to broach the subject however, Jindra had become angry with him for even suggesting it; but he had seen it in her eyes – and it had hurt him deeply.

            Second had been his discovery of the cause for the accident that had taken Coren Roh's life.  The fact that he had designed the mechanism that had malfunctioned and caused the explosion, made him burn with shame and guilt.  Coren had been the first true friend that he had made in Zaibach; and if it had not of been for the young cadet, Folken and Jindra never would have met one another and fallen in love.  Knowing that he would eventually have to Jindra about his discovery and his part in her brother's death haunted him, and he dreaded what her reaction to the news would be when it finally broke.  

            Third had been his encounter with Anton Lefebvre.  Never had Folken seen as much hate and anger in one person as he had seen in that dark-haired man.  The fact that Lefebvre seemed to know something about the guymelef explosion, and had made insinuations regarding Folken's part in the scheme had scared the outlander immensely.  Knowing Anton's feelings for Jindra, the young man would waste no time in going straight to her father with the entire story should he ever discover enough to prove his claim.

            Juri had sworn Folken to silence once he had presented his findings to the older man—and Folken knew that Juri would never betray such confidential and explosive information; but the young apprentice began to suspect that there was a traitor in the tower, someone with intimate access to the investigation. With only Marco and Garufo being the other members of the group, Folken's obvious first choice would have been Garufo – the man was conniving and had no scruples; but more importantly, Folken really didn't want to believe that Marco could be a traitor.  The older apprentice had become his friend and confidant; but as he thought more and more on Marco's strange behavior over the last week, Folken found that it troubled him greatly.

            Next, but not wholly unexpected, had been a summons from Jindra's father demanding to see him.  Erich Roh's tersely written message was delivered to Folken's quarters just after he had returned from breakfast.  As he read the short missive, he felt his heart sink even further.  The man's words were short and to the point – and he expected to see Folken in his office at two o'clock that afternoon.  Folken wondered if Jindra would be there as well; but for her sake, he hoped not.  No doubt he and Erich would be saying a lot of things to each other that perhaps, would be best that she did not hear.

            Folken fidgeted and paced the morning away, unable to calm his raging nerves.  When the bell tolled for lunch, the young man ignored it; his stomach was so tied in knots that the mere thought of food made him feel queasy.  When the small clock on the table in his front room struck one o'clock, Folken went into his bedroom and hurriedly changed his clothes – although the thought of turning up at Erich Roh's office in his sorcerer's robes did appeal to him a strange, twisted way.  He could well imagine the gossip that would be going on at the trade office if a sorcerer from the black tower came to visit the Vice-Secretary in his office privately.  But he quickly shook the thought from his head as he slipped on a pair of dark gray trousers and stuffed in the tail of his shirt before buttoning them up.  After he completed his change, he took a long, dark blue mantle from the wardrobe and draped it around his shoulders, letting it trail down his right arm to help cover his metal hand.  Surveying himself in the small wall mirror, he thought that he looked respectable and presentable enough to appear before Jindra's father.  As he turned from the mirror, his gaze lingered on the dark wooden case sitting on the chair next to his bed.

            On impulse he quickly unlatched the lid and lifted it up.  His eyes immediately strayed to the gleaming sword nestled on its bed of dark green, and his fingers lingered on the finely crafted blade.  But what he really sought was the gold ring that was lying next to the hilt of the sword – his marriage ring.  Taking the ring that Jindra had given him, he placed it on the third finger of his left hand.  As he looked at the dragon-engraved band, he started to feel better – as if there was some bit of magic within it that gave him a feeling of inner calm and renewed confidence.  _No matter what he says or does, Jin is my wife – and I plan to make sure that it stays that way._

            After closing the lid on the wooden case, Folken took a deep breath to steady his nerves; then he quietly left his room and made his way towards the hidden passageway that he had discovered out of the tower.

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            Folken slammed his metal fist against the wall of the damp, dark tunnel.  The young man was so angry that he just wanted to shout out his rage for everyone and anyone to hear.  His meeting with Erich Roh had gone from bad to worse in the space of just a few minutes and had continued on a downward spiral until Jindra's father had threatened to have him thrown out.  Folken still couldn't figure out how things had turned so ugly so fast – not that he had expected the man to welcome him with open arms; but the anger that had been in Erich's eyes and on his face had put the young man on the defensive just as soon as he had stepped through the office door.

            Erich had immediately started in about how Folken had tricked Jindra into marrying him; how he had plied her with false promises of love and happiness; and how the outlander had preyed on her innocence and then seduced her – ruining her reputation and her future.  The man's face was livid and his eyes had been blazing as he threatened Folken with all sorts of punishments and revenge.  Folken watched as Erich had pulled copies of their marriage documents, that he had obtained from the registrar's office, from his desk.  Then he watched, stunned, as the man proceeded to tear them apart and throw the shredded remains at the young man's feet.  Jindra's father then told him that he had retained a civil litigator to inquire about having the marriage annulled or if that were not possible, then having it legally dissolved through a divorce.  Either way, Erich promised him that he would make sure that all ties between Folken and his daughter were broken and he would make sure that Folken never saw Jindra again.

            The more that Erich Roh ranted on, the angrier Folken grew.  He could feel a cold rage building within and he clenched his fists so hard that he was afraid he would once again draw blood with his fingernails if he pulled them any tighter.  Unclenching his fist, Folken had rubbed at his marriage ring with his thumb, hoping that the reassuring feeling from earlier would once again settle over him, but it did not return.  When Jindra's father stopped for a moment to catch his breath -- that was when Folken had finally let his temper loose.  Even as the words left his mouth and the anger blazed in his dark eyes, he knew that it had been the wrong thing to do – but he couldn't stand there any longer and let Erich Roh berate and belittle him and tell him how his future was going to be.  He refused to let the man bully him and he wasn't going to just stand aside and let Jindra's father sever his marriage without a fight – and Folken had told him so, in no uncertain terms.  He had looked Erich Roh right in the eyes and told him that Jindra had married him of her own free will and that he would never give her up – that he would fight to keep her and that he didn't care what kind of threats the man made or how many judges he dragged in; he would not allow him to break up their marriage.

            He had watched as Erich's face turned a dark shade of purplish-red as the man had let loose with a string of curses that would have made even the most hardened sailor or soldier blush.  It was about then that the older man had ordered him out of his office, or he would have him bodily thrown out in the street.  Gathering his courage one last time, Folken calmly looked at Erich and said, "Forcing Jin to dissolve our marriage against her will is only going to drive the two of you farther apart Mr. Roh – don't make her have to choose between us, it's not fair to her.  Don't' force her to make that choice – because in the end we'll all lose."

            Erich had looked at him, his jaw tightly clenched in anger.  Without another word, the older man had opened the door to his office and then sat down in the chair behind his desk, and turned to face the window behind him.  Knowing that he was being dismissed, Folken had silently departed.  As he hurried through the myriad of smaller offices and towards the front doors of the building, Folken barely noticed the whispers and looks that followed in his wake.  When he stepped out onto the street and into the bright sunlight, he blinked his eyes; and at last realized that he had been crying.

            As he made his way through the darkened tunnel, the torch in his hand feebly illuminating a path that he knew by heart, Folken once again cursed his temper and quick tongue.  As he made his way up the rough, mossy steps towards the hidden door back into the tower, he counted how many days were left until he and Jindra would board the trade ship that would take them away from Zaibach.  _Seven days – and they can't come soon enough._

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            Feeling weary and defeated, Folken returned to his quarters only to find a note from Juri Selanne tucked under his door.  As he broke the seal and started to unfold the single page, all he could think was: _What now?  Quickly scanning the short paragraph, Folken's eyebrows crooked with a puzzled expression.  The older man had requested that Folken come to see him in his quarters just as soon as possible.  __He probably wants to chew me out some more – or else he's told Dornkirk . . . like I need that on top of everything else . . ._

            With a heavy sigh, the young man looked at the note and then stuffed it in his coat pocket.  _Sorry Juri, but you're just going to have to wait a little while longer; there's something else I need to do first._

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            "Marco – it's me."  Folken rapped on the door and waited.  After a minute or so with no reply, he knocked again. "Marco?"

            "Yeah, yeah – I'm coming;" came the slightly muffled reply from the other side of the door.  Folken stepped back as he heard the doorknob turn.

            The door cracked open and Marco's face looked pale in the shadowed darkness of the room behind him.  "Well, well; look who it is – the happy bridegroom himself . . ."

            Folken arched his brow at the other man, "Why don't you say it a little louder Dimetra – I'm not sure that everyone on this floor heard you." 

            The dark-haired man looked a little sheepish, "Hey, lighten up – there's no one around anyway, never is this time of the day."  Marco held the door open for Folken to enter.  The older man raised his eyebrow as he took in Folken's civilian clothes, "So, where have you been on this fine afternoon?  In the company of that enticing little wife of yours, no doubt;" he closed the door.  "Juri had one of his servants here looking for you . . ." Marco motioned for Folken to sit down.

            "I know -- there was a summons waiting for me when I got back.  I needed to see you first though."

            Marco took a seat across from Folken, "You didn't answer my first question; and from the look on your face, I think it's safe to say that you weren't with Jindra – not unless the two of you had one hell of a knockdown, drag out fight."

            Folken snorted and shook his head, "I wish  . . . but no . . . I just got back from spending the most hellish hour of my life with my new father-in-law."  His tone was sarcastic and cold, "During which time he called me every name that he could think of, and practically accused me of using my evil sorcerer's powers to lure his daughter in so that I could seduce her and ruin her life."  The young man sighed, "Needless to say, if Erich Roh gets his way – my marriage will be over before it even gets a chance to start."

            "Gods . . ." Marco breathed.  "How did he find out?  I thought that you two were going to keep it a secret until it was time for you to leave?"

            "We were," Folken replied.  "But Jin . . . she didn't want to hide it from her parents -- she thought that they deserved to know . . . so, she told them.  I knew she was going to – we had already discussed it; and I was supposed to be there with her, so that we could do it together . . ." He looked away from his friend, "But . . . as usual, I wasn't there for her when she needed me and all hell broke loose."

            "Man – I'm sorry . . . how's Jindra holding up?"

            "She was devastated of course – I think that she really believed that her parents would come around and accept us.  I tried to warn her, but she was just so set on the idea that she wouldn't think otherwise."  Folken sighed again, "Why is it that everything I touch ends up going to pieces?  You're supposed to be happy when you get married – not crying and arguing with people over it.  I swear; I can't wait until we leave here – I'll be the happiest person you ever saw once there's a few hundred miles between me and Zaibach."

            "The two of you are still planning on leaving?  But what about Jindra's parents – if they feel so strongly about your marriage – they aren't going to let the two of you just take off."

            "We are going," Folken replied.  "I . . . I told Jin that I'd understand if she couldn't leave her family – if she wanted to end our marriage . . . and she give me an earful.  I thought she was going to beat me senseless for even suggesting it.  But I could see that she was having second thoughts about what we did – I think she's sorry that we got married the way we did . . . although as upset as she is over what's happened, she says she loves me and still wants to go away with me." 

            He was silent for a moment; but when he spoke again, his voice sounded strained.  "I don't know, Marco . . . she's giving up so much for me . . . her family, her friends, everything that she knows -- I just wish that it didn't have to be like this.  I don't want this to become an irreparable rift between her and her parents . . . it's going to be even harder for her once we leave here – she won't be able to come back here and see them . . . and it may be quite a long time before they can come to Palas to visit her."

            Marco regarded the other man for a few moments.  "If you're asking me if I think that the two of you did the right thing, then I really can't answer that – only the two of you can.  Anyone can see how much you and Jindra love each other – how much you belong together . . . but is it worth all the pain and heartache?  I don't know . . . I guess it depends on how much you want to be with each other – how much you're willing to sacrifice to be together."  

            He looked away from Folken, his eyes towards the half-shrouded window.  "I'm the wrong person to ask about this kind of stuff, Folken," he turned his dark eyes back to the other man's face.  "I've never really been in love and even if I had been – it would be different for me; I wouldn't have to deal with marriage and families – I'd just have to worry about the pain afterward if it didn't work out.  No annulments, no divorces – just going your separate ways and on to the next person."

            Folken gave him a puzzled look, "Sometimes Marco, I haven't a clue what you're talking about.  I can't believe that you'd take a woman like she was your wife, with out marrying her; and then just toss her aside when you got tired of each other?  That's a pretty callous attitude . . ."

            Marco sighed and shook his head, "It's not like that Folken . . . I-I . . . look I really don't want to get into this with you right now – I'm not sure you'd understand and I don't have the patience to try to explain it; so why don't you just leave it alone, okay?"  His voice sounded harsh and a bit weary.

            The pale-haired man looked at him for a moment and then slowly nodded his head.  "Sure . . . okay."  Trying to dispel the gloomy atmosphere that had crept into the room between the two men, Marco gave Folken a smile, "So what did you need to see me about – what's so important that you've left Juri Selanne waiting -- stewing in his juices -- for little old me?"

            "I-I need to ask you a favor . . . I need you to do something for me."  Folken hesitated as he spoke.  "I need you to take a message to Jin for me."  He saw a flicker of something in Marco's dark eyes, but then just as quickly it was gone.

            "I'd really like to help you out Folken, but . . . "

            "What's wrong – I thought you wanted to help us?"

            "I do – I did . . . – it was fun; all the secret plans, the subterfuge -- spy stuff, you know . . . but I really don't need any trouble courtesy of Jindra's father – I've got enough problems of my own without some outsider causing more for me."

            "What kind of problems?" Folken's brows quirked in puzzlement, "What's going on?"

            "Nothing," Marco shook his head.  "Just my usual – Marco the lay-about; Marco the laziest apprentice in the history of the tower; Marco the pretty-boy tart . . . I can deal with all that; but I don't need Juri or someone else breathing down my neck because I got mixed up in something that could end up putting me out of the tower or worse."  He looked away and Folken could see the blush that crept up his face, "I-I don't want to be involved if they find out about you and Jindra . . . and I especially don't want to be the reason that it might happen."

            "What do you mean?  Has someone been asking questions about Jindra?  Have you heard something?"  There was anxiety in Folken's voice.  "C'mon Marco, if you know something, then please – tell me."

            Once again he saw something flash in Marco's dark eyes.  "Relax, I didn't mean it like that . . . it's just that – well if Jindra's old man is as bent out of shape as you say, then how do you know he won't bring the tower down on you – just to get her away from you?"

            "He's not stupid Marco; he wouldn't risk exposing Jin like that – she'd be in just as much danger as I would.  I'm pretty sure I won't have to worry about that."  Folken was silent for a moment; but his gaze lingered on Marco's face while he thought.   _What's the matter with him?  I know that something happened the day that Jin and I got married . . . he looks like he's scared.  I wish he'd confide in me; especially if he knows something.  "Look Marco, I just need you to do this one last favor, please?  I can't risk going to meet Jin right now – I've received two messages here in as many days; someone is bound to get suspicious.  I won't ask you for another thing, I promise."  _

            Marco gave him a long look and then sighed, "Alright, just this one last time."  He saw the hurt in the other man's eyes and he suddenly regretted his words and the tone of his voice.  Trying to smooth things over, Marco's gave Folken a rakish smile; "Hey, anything to spend a little more time in the company of that lovely and beguiling little bride of yours.  A bit more of the old Dimetra charm and she'll soon see the error of her ways and finally toss you off for me."  He gave his companion a wink, "I'm much better suited to her than you anyway – you're way too tall for one thing . . ."  
  


            "Marco!"  Folken cut him off, an exasperated sound in his voice.  "Can't you be serious for five minutes?"

            The dark-haired man tried to give him a wide-eyed look of innocence, "Who said I wasn't being serious?"  Folken arched his brow at him.  "Alright, alright – who knew you were the jealous type Lacour?  Although if I had a pretty little wife like that waiting for me . . ."

            Folken growled, "Marco . . ."

            The other man smiled and laughed.  "You're such an easy target Folken – it's just too easy to resist."  He sobered a bit and his voice sounded serious once again, "So, what about this message that you want me to give Jindra . . ."

            Folken scooted forward in his chair and started to layout his plan and the message that he needed Marco to deliver for him.

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            ". . . you're to see the girl when?" 

            "I-In the morning – t-tomorrow;" stuttered the dark-haired man, his eyes downcast.

            "This does change things a bit – nothing that can't be compensated for, but it is damn inconvenient."  The man tapped his chin with his forefinger as a thoughtful look came across his face.  "But actually, it's given me an idea."  He laughed. "Yes, a most brilliant idea." He reached out and stroked the dark curls of the man kneeling in front of him.  "And you're just the person to help me put it in motion, my dear little Marco." 

            Marco felt the welling of tears in his dark brown eyes as the man gave him a cold, predatory smile.  "Yes, you're just the one . . ." The man's hand moved to tangle in Marco's long hair.  "You've done well – very well."

            The man laughed and grabbed a handful of dark hair, jerking Marco's head up.  He smiled as he saw the spark of tears from the pain in the apprentice's eyes.  "You cry so beautifully Marco . . . you don't know what it does to me when I see the glitter of tears in those handsome eyes of yours . . ."  

            Marco could hear the breathlessness in the other man's voice and he shivered in fear.  "Yes, tremble for me Marco . . . writhe and cry for me . . . you know how I love it when you beg . . ." The man laughed again, his voice hoarse with arousal, "Now for your reward my dear sweet boy . . ."

            Marco Dimetra cried silently in shame and pain; hating himself for his weakness and fear – but mostly for his betrayal of the only friend he ever had.


	54. Chapter FiftyFour

_FIFTY-FOUR_

            Jindra Roh-Lacour smiled her thanks at the man seated across from her as he filled her teacup.  Raising the cup, she took a small sip – savoring the exquisite taste.  "Mmmmmm, I love the tea here."  Her companion nodded in response, but remained quiet.

            Jindra studied Marco Dimetra as the two quietly sipped at their cups.  Although she had not seen the dark-haired man for over a week, she thought that he looked a bit pale and his dark eyes were red-rimmed and tired looking.  When she had joined him in the cafe, Marco had stood up from the table before taking her hand and giving it a quick kiss.  He then gave her a rakish smile and waited for her to sit down, before joining her.  She noticed that as he sat down, he leaned against the back of the chair and she was almost certain that she saw him flinch – as if in pain – and then sit forward in the seat.

            Altogether, his usual friendly and flirty manner had dimmed a bit and she couldn't help but wonder why.  While she was concerned about him, she was reluctant to ask him what was wrong – Marco would probably tell her nothing and then make some joke to turn the conversation away to something less personal.  Although she had been leery of him when they had first met, in the past few weeks Jindra had come to regard the apprentice sorcerer as a close and dear friend – there was so much in him that reminded her of Coren – and she wished that he would open up and confide in her about whatever was troubling him.

            "So, how does it feel to be an old married woman at the ripe age of seventeen?"  Marco asked as he refilled his cup.  "It sure looks like it's agreeing with you – there's a twinkle in your eyes that I don't remember seeing before."  He gave her one of his flirty smiles, "Guess Folken knows how to keep his lady happy."  He watched the slight flush that spread across her cheeks and he chuckled.  "That good is it?"

            "Marco!"  Jindra's scolded, "Is that all you ever think about?"

            "I'm a man – I can't help it, it's just the way we are – and I'm sure that you have no real complaints in that department, do you Jindra?  Because if you do, then maybe me and that husband of yours need to have a little chat to make sure that you never have any complaints again."  He winked at her.  "Of course if you had married _me in the first place, then I could personally guarantee that you would never find any fault in that respect where I was concerned."_

            Jindra arched her brow at him, "Excuse me, Marco; but I seem to recall you saying that I wasn't really your type when it came to – to being intimate."

            Marco smiled at her, "Maybe I'm tired and ready for change . . . and if I were going to do it for anyone at all, it would be for you Jindra.  I'd make you forget you ever laid eyes on Folken Lacour – in fact, you'd be so besotted with me that you'd spend all your days in bed waiting for me."  He saw her blush deepen and he chuckled again.

            "I'd be waiting for you because you'd be holed up somewhere with the stable boy, or the footman, or the gardener . . ." Jindra trailed off as she watched the flush that unexpectedly spread up Marco's neck.  _Serves you right; she thought to herself.  __Think you can make me blush all the time – well, here's some of your own medicine as they say._

            "Oooh, what a truly wicked thing to say, Jindra – you sound like quite the proper little fishwife now."  He laughed, "Although you're probably right – unless of course, we only hired ugly servants – or all female ones . . . but no, that might not work either – although with you trapped in my clutches, the maids would be safe from me . . . well, at least for a month or so, until you got to be a real shrew and then I'd be forced to toss you off . . ." He laughed once again at her expression and she stuck her tongue out at him.

            The two were interrupted when the waiter appeared with the rest of their order and placed the tray in the middle of the table.  The couple took a few moments to survey the laden tray of tarts, biscuits, cookies, jams and other assorted spreads before making their selections.

            Marco and Jindra quickly tucked into the delicious repast and polished off most of the tray while they made small talk.  Despite the light tone in his voice, Jindra could still sense that something was not quite right with her companion.  At times, his witty banter seemed forced and without his usual air of playfulness; and every so often she would see something flash in Marco's chocolate brown eyes – almost as if he were in pain – and it worried her.  _Maybe he fell in love with someone . . . someone who broke his heart?  But would he tell me if I asked him, or would he be too embarrassed? _

            "Jindra – knock, knock – is anyone home?"  Marco was looking at her as she shook her head to clear her thoughts.  "Huh?  I'm sorry Marco; my mind just kind of went somewhere else for a moment."  Jindra blushed and quickly took a sip from her teacup. 

            He smiled at her, "Thinking about that handsome and virile-looking husband of yours?"  He chuckled as she glared at him.  "Yes, he is worthy of a daydream isn't he?"  Marco batted his eyes at her and propped his chin on his palm, "Ah, it's a crying shame you know; I saw him first."  He gave a slightly dramatic sigh, "It's just not fair."  Jindra arched her brow at him, but said nothing.

            Putting his hand back down on the table top, his face took on a more serious look.  "Speaking of the illustrious Mr. Lacour, he wanted me to talk to you about something; that's why I asked you to come out with me today."

            "Why didn't Folken just come himself?"  Jindra's eyes grew wide and she put her hand on Marco's arm.  "He didn't get in trouble, did he?  They didn't do anything to hurt him?"

            "No, no; nothing like that."  He patted her hand reassuringly.  "He just wants to be careful, that's all – it's hard for him to leave the tower without someone noticing.  Don't worry, Folken's perfectly safe."  Marco willed his voice to stay steady.  _Safe – like a mouse with a hungry cat . . . he's safe alright.  Jindra looked at him expectantly as he continued on, "He – he went to see your father yesterday; did you know?"_

            Jindra slowly nodded her head, "Yes . . . my father was fit to be tied when he came home – even worse then he's been the past week.  I thought he looked angry that day . . . that day I told him about  . . . but yesterday he really looked like he was ready to – I don't know, beat someone with a stick or throw them out a window . . . "  She trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut.  Sighing, she looked back at Marco.  "How can something that's supposed to be the happiest thing in your life make so many people sad and miserable?"

            Marco gave her a sad look.  "Well, I don't know why you're so surprised.  You had to know that your family wasn't going to be exactly overjoyed by it.  Not that I'm saying they're right; but I can look at it from their point of view, Jindra.  They are your parents after all, they only want what's best for you – and unfortunately that isn't always the same as what you think you want.  They probably feel like you betrayed them, you went behind their backs and got married . . . of course they're angry."

            "So now you're on their side?  I thought you were our friend, Marco."

            "I'm not taking anyone's side – although if I had to choose, you know I would be on yours.  No one wants you and Folken to succeed and be happy living the rest of your lives together more than I do."  He glanced away from her, his voice low and sad sounding.  "I won't ever be able to have what the two of you have, Jindra.  I don't think I'll ever fall in love – not true love anyway."  He looked back up at her.  "I'll never get to experience all the joy and yes, even the sorrow that binds two people together as one.  But through the two of you, I've been able to glimpse all of that and sometimes . . . sometimes I wish my life had been different – that I had been different . . . normal, like any other man."  Marco looked away from her as he finished.

            Jindra sat quietly for a moment as she watched the profile of Marco's face.  Slowly, she reached out and took his hand.  "Marco, don't – don't say things like that about yourself."  He turned slightly and looked at her.  "Sometimes you remind me of Folken when you say such things.  There is nothing wrong with you Marco Dimetra.  You are one of the handsomest, wittiest, kindest and dearest people I know – and if people can't see that . . . well, it's their loss and they don't deserve to know you anyway."

            She let go of his hand and looked down at her lap.  "Besides love isn't all hearts and flowers – not unless the flowers have thorns sharp enough to cut you right down to the bone."  Her voice sounded bitter as she looked back up at Marco.  "If I had known then -- when I first met Folken -- how much pain and hurt falling in love with him was going to cause, I'm not so sure I wouldn't have turned around and run in the opposite direction."  She swallowed, "I mean I love Folken – so much – and I can't imagine my life without him, but sometimes I just wish that maybe we should have done things differently . . . or that it would have been better for everyone if the two of us had never even met. "

            "No Jindra – the two of you followed your hearts, you knew what you wanted and you didn't let anything stand in the way."  Marco gave her a small smile, "I've always admired people like you and Folken . . . I've always been afraid – afraid of going against the grain as they say.  I've never been brave – I've never been able to stand up to anyone and say no . . . I've just always accepted whatever was dealt me, whether I liked it or not.  Sometimes I wish that I could be strong, that I could just tell everyone to stuff it and then just walk away."  Marco's voice had faded to a whisper by the time he finished speaking.

            Jindra saw the pain in his eyes and she knew that there was more behind his words.  "Marco . . . what is it?  What's wrong?  I know that something is bothering you – I can see it, ever since I first go here. "

            "There's nothing . . ."

            She cut him off, "Don't Marco – don't lie.  If you don't want to tell me, then say so; but don't lie to me."  He looked at her, but remained silent.  Jindra tried once more, "Is it the tower?  Has something happened?  Did someone . . . ?" She trailed off, unsure of how to ask the question.

            Marco gave her a sharp look.  "It really isn't your concern, Jindra."

            "You're my friend Marco, and I care about you."  She started to reach out and touch his arm, but Marco pulled away.  "Fine, if that's how you want it – then don't tell me."

            The couple lapsed into silence, their eyes on anything but each other.  It was a few minutes before Jindra finally turned her gaze back on to the man seated across from her.  "So what did Folken want you to talk to me about?"  Her voice sounded cool, almost detached.

            "Folken . . .?  Oh . . . he wants the two of you to leave the city or make other arrangements to stay somewhere else."

            "Leave?  But we are leaving; the ship will be here in another week or so."  Jindra gave her companion a puzzled look.

            "Yes I know.  But Folken thinks that maybe the two of you should be together – somewhere . . .  safe, for lack of a better word.  Somewhere where no one will be able to find you until the ship arrives."

            "Why?  What's going on Marco?"

            "I think it has to do with whatever your father said to him, Jindra.  Folken came to see me as soon as he got back and – and he just looked so defeated, like he had been beaten down and was ready to surrender.  I think he's afraid that your father is going to send you away or that he's going to force you into dissolving your marriage."

            Jindra closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, "I know . . . he made me talk to a man the day before yesterday; he was a civil litigator.  He asked me all kinds of questions and when I told my father I wasn't going to answer them and that I intended to stay married . . . h-he . . ." She trailed off and shook her head.  "Gods Marco, I wanted to crawl away somewhere and die!  The things that man asked me – and my father's expression and the things he said to me afterwards . . ." 

            Jindra swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.  "My father practically accused Folken of forcing himself on me, and . . . and then he looked at me like I was some kind of filthy whore on the street when I told him that it wasn't true."  She bit her lip at the painful memory.  "My father wants to have our marriage annulled, so I won't be – as he so eloquently put it – further damaged, by having to go through the scandal of a divorce.  I don't think that he told the litigator about Folken being an apprentice in the sorcerer's tower."

            "He'd be a damn fool if he did."  Marco said bitterly.  "Trust me Jindra; you don't want anyone to know that – for your safety as well as Folken's." 

            The pair sat silently while the waiter cleared away the empty plates and brought them a fresh pot of tea.  Jindra reached for the pale porcelain pot and poured herself a fresh cup.  Marco shook his head as she held the pot out to him.  Setting the teapot back down on the table, she reached for her cup and silently sipped as Marco resumed speaking.

            "Anyway, about what Folken sent me here for . . . he thinks that it would be best for the two of you to do it right away.  He's made some tentative plans and I've agreed to help in arranging whatever you decide to do.  If you want to leave the city I can see about getting you some horses and supplies; or if you prefer to remain here, I can find somewhere for the two of you to stay until the ship docks.  I thought that little inn where you spent your wedding night might be a good choice; it's small and tucked away off the main streets – and quite cozy, as I recall." 

            Marco paused and looked at Jindra; "He wants to do this within the next two days, Jindra.  I'm supposed to get an answer from you."

            Jindra set her cup down rather hard, "Like I have a choice?"  Her voice sounded bitter, "I can run away with Folken and hide like a criminal or I can stay at home and let my father rule me for the rest of my life; all the while reminding me of what a disappointment I am to our family."  She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.  "I'm tired of this – all the secrecy, all the lies, all the heartache . . . I know that this isn't how things should be.  I just want all of this to be over and done with – so that we can get on with the rest of our lives."

            "Jindra," Marco started.

            "No Marco, it's alright.  Don't worry, I'm not cracking up – well, not completely anyway."  She gave him a half-hearted smile.  "I should look on the bright side, things could be worse – Folken could be locked up somewhere and I could be on a one-way trip to parts unknown . . . although who knows, we might just all end up like that anyway."  Jindra's voice sounded sad as she finished speaking.

            Marco looked at her, unsure as to whether she was serious or not.  Jindra saw the look on his face, "Don't scowl like that Marco, it doesn't suit you at all."  He arched his brow at her.  "You look like my father when you do that.  You better watch it Dimetra, you're starting to show your age and look fatherly."

            The dark-haired man gave her a wide-eyed look of feigned shock, "What a perfectly hideous thing to say to me Jindra; and after I've been nice enough to treat you to a lovely tea and play errand boy for you and that infuriating husband of yours.  Fatherly indeed – and here I thought you were my friend."  He mockingly sniffed back non-existent tears, "Why I have half a mind to fall out of love with you and leave you to the mercies of that barbaric outlander of yours."

            Jindra rolled her eyes, "Sometimes I think that you're my brother come back to haunt me – and I just want to box your ears."  She reached across the table and grasped his hand, "and other times, I want to hug you and thank you for being here."

            Marco squeezed her hand, "Your welcome."  He saw the slight blush that crept across Jindra's face as she released his hand.

            "So, what else did Folken have to say about this plan of his . . . "

            Marco reached for the teapot and refreshed his cup as he continued telling Jindra about her husband's intentions.

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            Jindra and Marco were on the sidewalk outside of the café.  It had been over an hour since they had first entered the small eatery and after a few glances from the wait staff within, the two had quietly taken their leave to continue their conversation outside.

            "M-Marco . . . I – I think you should come with us . . . when Folken and I leave Zaibach, you should come with us."  Jindra blurted out as she took the dark-haired man's offered arm and the two started walking.  Her words brought her companion to a halt and he looked down at her.  

            "Jindra . . ."

            "What reason do you have to stay here?  You told me that you have no family – no ties other than your oaths to the tower.  Why would you stay here when you could go somewhere else – a new place and a new start in life?  Don't you want to have a chance to really live – to really be happy?"  Jindra's voice had risen and she quickly dropped it as several people passing by looked their way.  "Come with us to Palas – I know you'd like it there . . . it's so beautiful – the ocean and the sun . . . it's the perfect place to start over, Marco."

            Marco let go of her arm and turned away.  "Please Jindra . . . don't . . . I can't leave here . . . I don't belong anywhere but in the tower – it's all I know . . . it's what I deserve."  His voice was a whisper.

             "No one deserves to be preyed on and mistreated just so that they have can have a roof over their head and food in their stomach.  You don't have to live like that Marco . . . you shouldn't have to live like that."

            He turned to face her, "What do you know about it, Jindra?  What do you know about being homeless and penniless . . . what do you know about not being wanted and turned out into the street."  His voice was hard, "I made my choice a long time ago – and for good or bad, I've learned to live with it."

            Jindra swallowed and looked away from him.  "You're right Marco; you're absolutely right.  I don't know what kind of life you've had, other than what you've chosen to tell me . . . but I know that you aren't happy, anyone could see that."  She turned her eyes back towards his face as she reached out and touched his arm.  "It's just that . . . you've become so dear to me in such a short time, and I hate to think of you in that hateful tower surrounded by people who only want to use you and mistreat you.  You deserve so much more than that, Marco."

            Marco sighed as he placed his hand over hers.  "What would I do in Palas, Jindra?  I don't have any skills that would earn me a decent living – well, except for one; and if the day ever comes that I'm desperate enough to sell myself on the street, then I'll know it's time to end it all completely."

            He moved Jindra's hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.  The two started walking again while Marco continued.  "All these years, and I've learned to accept and live with the choices I've made.  Then along come you and Folken and – wham – my whole life is turned upside down.   For the first time since I was a child I know what it means to have a friend – to have someone else care about me, really care about me."  He looked down at his companion, "And I'll always be grateful to the two of you for that."

            "Then come with us Marco . . . the three of us together, starting new lives – living out our dreams."  Jindra pressed, once again.

            Marco was silent for a few moments, his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him.  When he did finally speak, his voice was soft.  "But that's your dream Jindra, not mine.  You wouldn't want me tagging along, not while the two of you are just starting out – I'd be nothing but a burden to you.  I don't have a lot of money and what will happen when it runs out?  You and Folken will need every copper that you have just to take care of yourselves."

            "I'm not even sure what the two of us are going to do once we get to Palas, Marco.  My aunt has offered to help us get settled and my grandfather's business is quite large – Bethanne was going to see if there was a place for Folken, so I'm sure that we could find you something too.  Despite what you say, you're really quite clever and there must be something that you could do."  Jindra looked up at him, "Besides, who other than you would I trust with our children Marco?"

            "C-Children . . . Jindra – you're not . . . surely it's too soon . . ."

            She laughed at the expression on his face, "Relax Marco; I'm not pregnant – at least not yet.  But once we get all settled, then I'm sure it's only a matter of time."  Jindra flashed him a smile, "C'mon Dimetra – just think, a whole gaggle of children climbing all over their 'Uncle Marco'; you'd be in heaven."

            "Sounds more like hell if you ask me," he said with an arched brow.  "A bunch of Lacour brats hanging off me and pulling my hair."  Marco suddenly laughed, "Although I could spoil them rotten and turn them into monstrous little horrors that would have the neighbors locking their doors and closing their drapes whenever they came down the street."

            Jindra rolled her eyes and sighed, "I swear you've been possessed by my brother's spirit – it's the only logical explanation."  Marco saw her expression change, a sadness that crept across her features as she fell silent.  "You don't know how much I wish that he were still here – I really miss how we could just talk about anything.  I always trusted Coren – even with the deepest secrets that I had; and he never told any of them.  Although I don't know how he would have taken all this – I'm not sure whose side he would be on . . ."

            "Well if he had any sense, he would have stayed clear of it all."  Marco replied, "Unlike me."  He flashed Jindra a smile to let her know that he was only joking and the two continued on in silence.

            The couple had almost reached their destination, the corner that would take Marco back to the sorcerer's tower and Jindra to her home in the opposite direction; when Jindra spoke.  "So, will you come with us Marco?"

            The two stopped and Jindra dropped her hand from her companion's arm.  "Jindra . . ." he started.  "I though we had settled all this."

            She looked at him with sad eyes, "I guess we did -- just now."  Jindra sighed and looked away from him.  "I don't know why you won't even consider it."  She turned back to face Marco.  "At least take some time to think about it, Marco."  She reached for his hand and held it.  "Promise me that you'll at least think about – seriously think about it."

            Marco squeezed her hand, "I promise – but don't get your hopes up Jindra – I have my reasons and I'm not likely to change my mind."  Lifting her hand, he brushed it with a soft kiss.  "Although," he added with a rakish smile; "I'm not sure if I could let you just run off with that no-account outlander now that I've ensnared you like a fly in my web."

            Jindra laughed and shook her head.  Reaching up, she gave Marco a quick peck on the cheek.  "How will I ever bear the separation . . . suppose Folken likes to throw his dirty clothes on the floor or he leaves muddy footprints all over the carpets?  I won't have you there to comfort me when I have to throw him out."

            Marco reached out and embraced her, "Well if that day ever comes, my dear; you just let me know and I'll be right at your side before you know it."

            Jindra hugged him back, "I'm going to miss you Marco Dimetra."

            "And I you," he replied softly.  _But will you ever be able to forgive me . . . will I ever be able to forgive myself?_


	55. Chapter FiftyFive

_FIFTY-FIVE_

            Doreena Roh was sitting on the sofa in the front parlor, her needlework lying forgotten on her lap as she looked at the window.  She had retired to the small sun-lit room to escape from her husband for a while.  Since his ill-fated meeting with Folken Lacour the day before, Erich had become even more impossible.  His usually calm demeanor had changed drastically when their daughter had announced her marriage to the outlander sorcerer's apprentice; and Doreena wasn't even sure that the man who now stalked around their house in such anger was her husband at all.   

            Doreena knew how hurt her husband had been by Jindra's shocking news, for she had always been his favorite – it had almost been impossible for her to do anything wrong in his eyes.  The fact that his adored and trusted daughter had deliberately deceived him had struck something in Erich that had apparently pushed him beyond the limit.   He had been ranting on about Lacour's arrogance and insolence that morning at breakfast – so much so, that Jindra had abruptly stood up from the table and fled upstairs.  The look on her daughter's face had pained Doreena so much that she had slammed her teacup down with such force that the handle had broken off in her hand.  It was at that moment that she decided that enough was enough – she was tired of her home being a battleground between her husband and daughter.  As she looked at her husband's startled expression, she had finally let out all her anger -- at him and his treatment of their daughter -- until the two of them had all but thrown dishes at one another.

            With tears in her eyes, Doreena had fled to the parlor and had remained closeted away for the rest of the morning and early afternoon.  She heard Erich slam the front door as he left presumably for his office.  Jindra had left the house not long afterwards, with no word as to where she had gone or when she would be back – not that Doreena had expected her too.  The older woman shook her head as she thought about where her daughter had probably gone; and she wondered if Jindra was at the moment with the very man who was at the heart of a great many of her family's current problems – and if she would be coming back at all.

            _Why shouldn't she be with him?  Erich's acting like a pig-headed idiot – the harder he pushes Jindra the harder she will push back, and then what?  Will he be happy when he drives her away completely?  No matter what he says, I don't believe that Lacour forced her into this marriage . . . no one can make Jindra do anything she doesn't want to do – she's much too stubborn.  But still, how could she have done this – I can't believe that she never stopped to consider the consequences . . . and now it's too late, the damage has already been done._

            _The damage . . . Doreena closed her eyes as she let out another weary sigh; for it wasn't just the damage to Jindra's reputation that she had been thinking of, but the damage to her family's relationship.  Like her own parents, Doreena had tried to raise her children in a loving and sharing environment.  She and Erich had tried to give Coren and Jindra as much freedom as possible to explore who they were and what they wanted to do with their lives – and the two of them had grown into very caring, honest and responsible people.  Their relationship with their parents had been such that neither one ever feared going to Doreena or Erich and confiding in them about their feelings, the decisions they were faced with making – even with matters related to members of the opposite sex.  It was the loss of openness and trust that saddened Doreena the most – that Jindra had betrayed their trust – and she was afraid that what had happened between them might never be healed._

            The prospect of losing Jindra, so soon after Coren's death, had caused Doreena to do a lot of thinking over the past two days – and she decided that she would rather have Folken Lacour for a son-in-law than face not having any kind of relationship with her daughter at all.  She knew that no matter how much Erich bullied and ranted, Jindra would never willingly dissolve her marriage to Lacour; and as much as it pained her to believe it, the two of them appeared to love each other quite deeply. 

            Doreena knew that the only way the three of them could even hope to rebuild their relationship, would be for she and Erich to try and make a conscious effort to accept Jindra and Folken's marriage – no matter how many misgivings they had or their personal feelings for the sorcerer's tower.  Constantly demeaning and insulting the outlander in their daughter's presence would only drive the wedge deeper between them.  So Doreena had agonizingly resigned herself to the fact that Folken Lacour was now her son-in-law, a member of her family, and should be treated as such.  She only hoped that her husband would be able to find the strength to accept it too – for his sake as well as Jindra's.

            Taking her eyes from the window, Doreena looked down at the needlework project in her lap.  She was contemplating giving it up for the day when the door opened and the very person she had been thinking of peeked in.

            "Jindra . . . you're back."

            "I-I . . . I'm not disturbing you, am I?" The younger woman asked.

            "No, not at all," Doreena answered, a small encouraging smile on her face.

            "C-Can I come in . . . I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes – if that's okay."  Jindra's voice was small and she seemed a little frightened.

            "Of course, dear;" Doreena moved the needlework from her lap and put it on the end table next to her.  "Here, come in and sit down."  She patted the empty space next to her.  Jindra stepped into the room and softly shut the door.  She stood and regarded her mother for a few moments before joining her on the sofa.  The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes until Doreena finally spoke.

            "So, did you go to see Folken Lacour?"

            "F-Folken . . .?"  Jindra's voice sounded slightly confused.

            "You can't think that I'm dense enough to believe that the two of you haven't seen each other since you were married." 

            Her daughter dropped her eyes, "I-I . . . I went to meet a friend of his . . . he – he brought me a message from Folken."  Jindra couldn't stop the blush that crept up her face.  

            "The man is your husband Jindra, and he sends you messages – he can't even come to you in person?"  Doreena couldn't help the scorn that crept into her voice. "Perhaps he's regretting this hasty marriage of yours already?"

            Jindra bristled at her mother's words.  "There was nothing hasty in our marriage, Mother – we planned everything out weeks ago."  She suddenly stopped as she realized what she had just said, the heat rising in her face once again.  The young woman looked away, "I'm – I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean for it sound like – for it to come out like that."

            She swallowed and looked back at Doreena.  "It's – it's hard for Folken to leave the tower . . . for us to see one another."  Jindra trailed off for a moment and looked down at her lap.  "We've only been able to see one another just once since our wedding day."

            "It sounds like a very peculiar marriage, Jindra.  Is that how you want to live the rest of your life – seeing your husband whenever the two of you can steal away for a few moments?  Hiding and sending messages to one another because you can't see each other in person?  Is that the kind of relationship that you want?"

            "No – of course not;" Jindra squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath.  "But it's all we can do right now – we don't have any other choice.  I hate all this hiding, the secrecy and the lies – I'm so sick of it all."

            "And just whose fault is that Jindra?  Your father and I trusted you – and you threw that trust back in our faces like it was nothing.  How do you think that makes us feel?"

            "I never meant for it to be like this!  Do you think I wanted to hurt you and Father?  Do you think I planned to fall in love and then run away one day and get married?  But what was I suppose to do Mother?  I knew how the two of you felt about Folken – you never even gave him a chance, you never even tried to get to know him."  Jindra hurled the words at her mother, he eyes blazing.  "All you knew how to do was hate him because of _what he is, you never saw him for __who he is."_

            Doreena squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she let out a very weary sounding sigh.  "All we've ever wanted was for you to be happy – to be the person you wanted to be; that's why we put so much trust in you.  We tried to let you live your own life and make your own decisions, even if we thought you were making a mistake.  But this – this marriage of yours was just too much.  You deceived us and lied to us – how do I know that you aren't going to sit here and tell me more lies?"

            Jindra looked away, her voice small and sad sounding.  "Because I can't – it hurts too much."  Swallowing, she looked back at her mother.  "I don't want any more secrets or lies between us, Mother.  I don't want us to keep hurting each other – I don't want to fight with you anymore."

            She reached out and took Doreena's hand, "I'm sorry – so sorry . . . I didn't mean for everything to turn out like this.  I'm not sorry that I married Folken – because I love him so much.  But I am sorry for how I did it – for deceiving you and lying to you.  I know I hurt you and Father . . . I never wanted to do that – that was the last thing that I wanted."  She swallowed the lump that she felt in her throat, "I want us to be like we were before – I don't want us to be separated by secrets and lies anymore."  She sniffed back tears as she looked at her mother's face.  "I hate living like this."

            Doreena squeezed her daughter's hand, "I'm sorry too Jindra.  We've all made mistakes here . . . and I want us to be close again – for us to trust one another again."  Pulling her hand away, she brushed the hair from Jindra's face and tucked it behind her ear.  "So, why don't we start now?  What did you want to talk to me about?"

            The younger woman dropped her eyes, "I-I . . . Folken and I . . . we . . ."

            Doreena had a sinking feeling that she knew what her daughter was going to say, so she finished for her.  "You're here to tell me that you and Lacour are leaving, aren't you?"

            Jindra's eyes snapped back up to her mother's face, "H-H-How did you know that?"

            "There are only two things that would be important enough for you to tell me of now – and at the moment, I don't even want to think about the other one."  Jindra colored at Doreena's implied words.  "Besides, I know it's the only thing you can do – _they won't ever allow the two of you to remain here."  She knew who her mother meant by __they.  "So, where are you planning to go?"_

            "Palas," Jindra whispered.

            "I should have guessed . . . to Bethanne's no doubt."

            The younger woman barely nodded her head.  "Probably . . . at least until we can get ourselves settled into a place of our own."

            "I see . . . and when are you leaving?"

            "In about a week . . . we have reservations on an Egzardian trader."

            Doreena gave her daughter a puzzled look.  "Egzardian . . . why didn't you write to your grandfather?  He would have sent a ship here for you if you had asked him.  Why waste money if you don't need to."

            "I-I didn't – I didn't want you to find out."  Jindra answered softly.  "Plus I didn't think he or Uncle Arturo were likely to help us if they found out the truth."  Doreena arched her brow, but remained silent. 

            "Why . . . why are you being like this Mother?"  The younger woman asked.

            "Like what?"

            "So . . . so calm, I guess."

            Doreena sighed, "Would you rather I sat here ranting and raving?  I don't know about you, but I think I've had about enough of that as I can stand."  She reached out and took her daughter's hand.  "Gods know this isn't what I wanted for you Jindra, but what's done is done.  Either I learn to live with it and try to accept it, or I can let it stay between us and lose you in the process.  I'd rather know where you were and hope that you were happy, instead of being worried that you were hungry and homeless somewhere."

            Jindra squeezed her mother's hand and then released it.  Doreena gave her a small smile, "So, do you need anything?  Money . . . clothing . . .?"

            "Y-You . . . you want to help us?"  The young woman looked at her mother with wide eyes.

            "What – did you think I would turn you out in the street with nothing?  You are my daughter, Jindra – my only daughter -- and though you might not have married in the way that I had wished you too; still, I want to do everything that I can to help you.  I know there must be something that you need – things to furnish a home . . . money . . . clothing . . ."

            "I don't need any clothes, Mother – really; what I have is fine."

            "Nonsense – you can't go traipsing around Palas in trousers, Jindra; it's quite different there then it is here.  The Vardas' already have a reputation for being eccentric, and I won't have my daughter adding to that."

_            I'm married to a man with a metal arm; Jindra thought.  __How much more eccentric can you get?  Almost laughing aloud, she pushed the thought out of her mind as she protested once more.  "Really Mother – I think what I have will be quite adequate.  I promise I won't embarrass the family."_

            Doreena waved a dismissive hand, "If you're going to be the mistress of a house, then you should dress like one.  Besides, it's been ages since you've had anything new; and there are a lot of other things that the two of you will need to start up your household."  

            _The two of us – our household; she's actually starting to think of Folken and I as a couple.  Jindra smiled to herself at the thought.  __I knew this would all work out – I knew that they'd come around._

            Rising from the sofa, Doreena went over to the small secretary against the wall.  Sitting down, she pulled out a piece of blank paper and opened the inkwell. "We'll make a list of basic things and then work from there."  Dipping a quill, she started.

            As her mother wrote, another thought struck Jindra.  "What about Father – what are we going to do about him?"

            The older woman looked up from her writing, "Don't worry about that, Jindra.  I have no intention of keeping this from him, but I think it would be best if we wait a day or so and let him cool down a bit.  I swear he's been so impossible – why do you think I've been hiding out in here?  I don't know whether to kick him in the seat of his pants or kick him out the door.  He's still so worked up from yesterday . . . why don't we wait until tomorrow morning and then see how he is?  Besides, I'll need to ask him for some money so that we can get you properly outfitted and see that you have most of what you'll need before you go."

            Rising from her seat on the sofa, Jindra joined her mother.  "Thank you," she hugged her mother tightly.  "I love you."

            Doreena returned her daughter's embrace, "I love you too – you stubborn, impossible child."  

            Jindra impulsively kissed her mother's cheek, "Father always said I was just like you."  The two women smiled at one another as they pulled apart.

            Leaning over her mother's shoulder as Doreena wrote out her list, the two spent the rest of the afternoon making plans and deciding on their impending purchases.  

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            Folken Lacour laid back against the pillow of his bed, his left arm behind his head.  Sighing, he closed his eyes as he gave into the fatigue that had started to fall over him.  Jindra's letter was still lying on the bed next to him and as he thought once again about what she had written his eyes slowly opened and he glanced down at the ivory-colored page.  She had addressed the outer envelope to Marco and the dark-haired man had delivered it to him just a short time ago.

            _Dearest Folken,_

_            I know you aren't going to like this, but I hope that you'll understand why I had to do it.  Marco has probably told you by now that I said I would meet you at the inn the day after tomorrow.  But once I tell you what's happened you'll see why we don't need to hide now._

_             I told my mother about our plans to leave for Palas.  I know you didn't want me to, but please try to understand that I had to do it.  She was a little upset, but in a way I think she expected it – so it really wasn't that much of a surprise.  Although she still isn't happy about our marriage (or our leaving), she's at least trying to accept it.  We had a really long talk about everything and she's offered to give us some money and whatever else we might need when we leave.  _

_            Please don't be too mad at me – but I just couldn't hide it any longer.  Maybe if it were your parents you would understand . . . I've hurt them both so much already, and I can't leave here having all those bad feelings between us.  I love you and I want to be with you, but I love my parents too and I don't want to hurt them anymore. _

_            You probably won't believe this either, but she also wants to meet with you (and me) before we go.  I think she wants to try starting over – and maybe even have my father there as well.  I know you're sitting there shaking your head no, but I think that we should at least try.  Maybe if we make an effort, my father might come around a little.  My mother seems to be willing to intercede with him on our behalf and I don't think that she wants to see our marriage end in a divorce (although I'm sure it's due more to the scandal than anything else, but I'll try to think positively)._

_            Please let me know what you decide – and if you don't want to see my parents again, I'll understand.  But I hope that you will at least think about it.  You are a member of our family now and it's only right that my parents should acknowledge that fact (whether they like you or not).  Please don't be upset with me, I really think this is for the best – for all of us.  _

_            Even if you decide not to see them, at least meet me – I miss you.  I miss your kisses and the feel of your arms around me.  I can't wait until we get to Palas and then we'll never be apart.  I love you._

_            All my love,_

_            Jindra (your adoring wife)_

_P.S.  I couldn't resist adding that last part – because you know it's true!_

            Despite her plea, Folken had felt his anger growing as he had first read the letter.  But when he got to the part about her mother and her offer to help them leave Zaibach, he felt a bit of it start to drain away.  He couldn't believe that Doreena would be willing to help them, let alone try accepting their marriage.  His first and only meeting with his wife's mother had not gone well and his previous encounters with her father had been complete disasters as well.  _A few days ago she was crying in my arms over their reaction and now her mother wants to help us?  Jin was so certain that they'd come around . . . I guess she was right.  Well with her mother anyway – Erich isn't going to be as easy.  Meet her parents . . . I think I'd rather be tossed out of a floating fortress at a few hundred feet.  Still . . . if they really are trying to make an effort . . .?_

            The young man sighed again_; I think that girl is trying to drive me insane – why does she do these things?  Folken looked up at the ceiling, his eyes fixed on a crack in the plaster.  __If I didn't love her so much I think I'd strangle her.  A small smile played across his lips as he closed his eyes once again.  __I can't wait until we get to Palas – no tower, no sorcerers, no parents . . . I swear it will be like heaven.  Folken let his mind drift as he imagined what his new life in Palas would be like.  As sleep slowly stole over him, he started to dream:  the two of them making love in a huge pillow-strewn bed while warm sunlight poured over them through a set of large open windows._

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            Anton Lefebvre looked at the man across from him, the hatred that he felt carefully masked behind his dark blue eyes.  _A few more days and this damnable place will be behind me . . . this long nightmare will finally be over._

            The young man pulled his attention back towards the man as he finished speaking.  "So . . . any questions, Sergeant?"

            Lefebvre shook his head, "No – although you are sure that Dimetra will bring Lacour there?"

            The man waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and made a face, "Lacour will be there, don't worry.  Dear little Marco wouldn't dare to defy me – he knows what will happen to him if he even so much as thinks about it.  Just make sure that you are there and in position when they arrive.  Everything hinges on Lacour seeing you."

            "Don't worry – I'll be there with bells on.  To finally see that freak get his comeuppance . . . it'll be worth standing in a hedgerow for a half hours time."

            "Well don't be too eager, Sergeant.  If he were to see you before Dimetra finishes his part in our little play than it will all have been for nothing."  The man gave Anton a smug look.  "Just think Lefebvre, a couple of more days and you'll have your heart's desire – the sweet attentions of the enchanting Miss Roh all for yourself."  The man chuckled to himself as he saw the flash in Anton's eyes at the mention of the young woman.

            "If she will have me, then yes;" Anton replied, his voice cold.

            "If . . . come now, Sergeant; all of your hard work and you leave the decision up to her?"  The man shook his head, "Sometimes I don't understand the younger generation, Lefebvre.  In my day, if you wanted the woman then you took her – and if you were foolish enough to wed her, well there were ways to remedy that situation too."

            He smiled once again, at the look on the young man's face.  _Oh yes, my dear Anton . . . I can't wait to watch when all your chivalrous piety is ripped away and you find out the truth.  I don't know which I'll enjoy more – watching Lacour crumble when the little bitch betrays him; or seeing the reaction on your handsome face when you learn just how pure and innocent she really is.  By the gods, I haven't had this much pleasure in such a long time . . . mores the pity that it has to end._

            The man turned his attention back to Lefebvre as the young man spoke.  "Perhaps it is a good thing then that times have changed."

            "Perhaps Sergeant," he gave Anton another sly grin.  "But there are times when the old ways still are the best."  With that, he stood and went to the door.  "If anything changes, I'll let you know; otherwise, proceed as planned."  Without waiting for Lefebvre's reply, he opened the door and departed.

            Anton picked up the wine glass in front of him and drained its remaining contents in one swallow.  _Don't worry; Jindra will take me – she won't have anyone else to turn to.  She will agree to be my wife and then we can put this godforsaken place behind us.  She will be mine._


	56. Chapter FiftySix

_FIFTY-SIX_

            The next couple of days passed uneventfully.  Doreena and Jindra went shopping together and the younger woman only protested a little when the seamstress that her mother hired came to take her measurements and bring some dress samples for Jindra to choose from.  Despite everything that had happened in the past week, Jindra and her mother found themselves growing close once again; and although Doreena still did not approve of her daughter's marriage, she had managed to curb her tongue and very rarely referred to Folken as "him" or "that man" when speaking of him – in fact once or twice she actually said his name.  Although she still did not like the young outlander, she had resigned herself to the fact that he was now a member of her family and she tried to be civil whenever she was with her daughter.  Doreena had only to think of her own father's treatment of Erich before the two of them had been married and she found that she didn't want to repeat Yellan's actions.  _Besides, the old coot did eventually give in and decide that Erich wasn't as bad as he thought.  For Jindra's sake I have to at least try to accept him._

            Thinking of her husband, Doreena winced as she recalled Erich's reaction to the news that Jindra and Folken would be leaving Zaibach.  Although he had not immediately flown into a rage, Doreena could see that his anger had been barely contained.  He had looked at Jindra with hard eyes, and in an equally hard voice had asked her if that was what she really wanted or if Lacour forcing her into it.  Of course their daughter had immediately gone on the defensive and if it hadn't of been for Doreena, the two of them would have been at each other's throats in mere minutes.

            Doreena shook her head; she found it somehow amusing that her normally cool and calm husband had now become possessed of a very hot temper.  She wondered if it had always been there and if it would ever go away.  Erich had always been the voice of reason, but now he had just become a stubborn hot head . . . _like me; she thought.  Doreena had started to try to accept Jindra's marriage – and Folken Lacour; and she hoped that Erich would begin to do so too, if only for their daughter's sake.  But Erich still refused to be swayed and the sad, disappointed look that haunted his face whenever he looked at his daughter made the tears in Doreena's eyes well up before she would hastily brush them away._

            The two women were walking together down the sidewalk, their arms laden with packages.  Jindra could hardly believe that she had allowed her mother to purchase so much for her.  Before they had left the last shop, Jindra had protested once again about the amount of items that her mother had deemed necessary to the start up of a proper household.  

            "Mother – what am I going to do with all of this?  I'm sure that we won't be able to bring even half of all this with us on the ship."

            "Nonsense, Jindra – they'll probably just charge you for the extra baggage; and if it's truly outrageous then we'll have 'Turo send a ship here for you." Doreena had replied dismissively.  "Besides, you won't find a better price on these linens outside of Zaibach; trust me."  Jindra gave her mother an exasperated look, but remained silent while their purchases were tallied and packaged up.

            The day was warm and bright as mother and daughter wound their way down the crowded sidewalk.  Their carriage had been left several blocks away so that the women could explore the various shops at their leisure; although Doreena was now regretting her decision as she trudged along burdened by the weight of several large parcels.

            "Mrs. Roh . . . Jindra?"  A familiar male voice spoke from Doreena's left.

            The older woman stopped and looked over to see Anton Lefebvre under the awning of a small spirits shop looking as if he had just stepped out into the street.  "Lieutenant Lefebvre – what a pleasant surprise."

            Jindra had pulled to a stop alongside her mother, and she saw Anton wince a little when her mother called him Lieutenant.  _I don't think she knows that Anton isn't at the academy anymore.  She tried to manage a polite smile as the young man looked at her.  "Hello Anton."_

            Lefebvre gave them a small bow, "It seems like ages since we last saw one another.  I hope that you and your husband are doing well, Mrs. Roh?"

            "Yes, we're quite well; thank you for asking."  Doreena shifted her packages a bit in her arms.  Noticing her discomfort, the young man quickly reached for several of the larger parcels.  "Please, allow me to be of some service."

            The older woman smiled her thanks.  "Thank you Lieutenant."

            "It looks as if the two of you have been on quite a shopping spree – hopefully you've left something for the rest of us to buy."  Anton joked and smiled. 

            "I'd be quick if I were you Lieutenant; we've pretty much picked everything clean – haven't we dear."  Doreena returned the young man's jest as she gave her daughter a smile.  "It sure looks like it," Jindra replied in a deadpan voice.

            "Surely you weren't intending to carry all of this home by yourselves?"  Anton asked.  "Allow me to get you a cab."

            "Actually, our carriage is just down the next block – we're on our way there now."  Jindra answered.

            "Then allow me to fetch it for you – the two of you shouldn't be trudging up the sidewalk with all of these packages."  The young man offered.  "If you just tell me where it is . . ."

            "Actually Lieutenant, it's a new coach and you probably wouldn't recognize it – the trim is different."  Doreena thought for a moment, "Perhaps it would be better for me to go – if you will be kind enough to wait here with Jindra and watch our things."

            "Of course, Mrs. Roh – if you're sure that you don't want me to go."

            "I'm certain, it will be much quicker if I go myself."  Giving her daughter a smile, Doreena let Anton take her remaining packages.  "I'll be back in a few minutes."  Turning, the older woman made her way quickly up the street.

            Anton stacked the parcels he had taken from Mrs. Roh on the sidewalk next to him.  "Why don't you put those down for a few minutes Jindra," he said as he turned to his companion.  Reaching out, he took what looked to be the heaviest of the packages that the young woman was carrying.

            "Thank you."  Jindra murmured.

            "So, is there some special occasion I've missed?  A holiday I don't know about?"  Anton asked.

            "Huh?  Jindra looked puzzled.

            "All your shopping – I just figured that there was something special going on." He replied as he gestured at the packages.

            "Uh . . . no . . . my mother just thinks that I need everything under the sun for some reason."

            "My mother loved to shop and buy things for my sisters all the time too – whether they needed it or not."  Anton's expression looked pained for a moment.  "Before my oldest sister married, I think the two of them must have bought out every shop in the village."

            Jindra felt her breath catch.  _Married . . . no, he can't – please no . . . he can't know . . . Steadying her voice, Jindra looked up at the young man's face.  "I know you told me you had sisters, but you never told me how many."_

            "Three – I have three sisters; one older and two younger.  Only Katarine – the oldest – is married.  The others, Brigitte and Liana, are still at home."  Jindra nodded her head and the couple lapsed into silence for a few moments.

            Jindra's eyes had darted a glance up the street looking for the carriage when Anton spoke again.  "Jindra . . . I-I've been debating on whether or not to come and see you.  There's something that I think you should know about."  There seemed to be a hesitation in his voice and Jindra sensed that whatever it was that he wanted to speak with about was obviously of some importance.

            "What is it Anton?  Is there something wrong?"  

            "No – well, I don't know . . . I'm not sure yet."  He looked down at her, the look on his face serious.  "I . . . I've heard some things in the tower – things that if they are true . . ." Anton looked away from her.

            Growing more concerned, Jindra put her hand on his arm and the young man turned back to face her.  "What kind of things Anton?"  _Please – not about Folken and I . . . not about our marriage.  "What – what kind of things?"_

            The young man seemed to struggle to find the words.  "About – about the accident . . . the guymelef accident that killed Coren;" he paused for a moment to gauge Jindra's reaction.  "There are rumors going around . . ." He broke off speaking and looked away once again.

            "Rumors about the accident?"  Jindra grabbed Anton's jacket by the sleeve and pulled until he returned his gaze to her once again.  "Please, tell me!"

            "They're only rumors Jindra . . . maybe I shouldn't have said anything to you."

            "I don't care – if you know something Anton, you have to tell me."

            The young man shook his head, "I don't want to hurt you Jindra . . ."

            Jindra let out an exasperated sound, "Damn it Anton – just tell me!"  Lefebvre's eyes widened at the tone in her voice and the spark of emotion in her silvery-gray eyes.

            "Some of them have to do with . . . some of them are about Folken Lacour."  

            Jindra put her palm up towards him, "Stop – I don't want to hear anymore."  She sighed and shook her head.  "Why can't you just let it go Anton?"

            The young man looked at her with sad eyes, "Believe it or not, it pains me greatly to tell you things like this Jindra.  I know that you think yourself in love with Lacour -- but what do you really know about him?  What do you really know about his life in the tower?"

            'I know that if Folken knew anything about the accident then we would have told me.  Besides, you said yourself that they were nothing but rumors – you don't have any proof that they're true."

            Lefebvre reached out his hand, but dropped it before touching her arm.  "No I don't – not yet; but I will.  Coren was like a brother to me – you can't even begin to understand how I felt when I heard that he had been killed.  One of the reasons that I took the position in the sorcerer's tower was to see if I could find out what happened to him.  I never believed that what happened was his fault – I had a feeling that there was something more going on, and I know that I'm right."

            Jindra sighed again, "I want to know what happened that day too Anton – more than you could imagine.  But your jealousy over Folken is clouding your judgment.  I don't understand why you can't just let it go – why you insist with this obsession to make me believe that Folken is some kind of black-hearted monster, that he has some hidden agenda."

            "Because someone has to make you see reason Jindra – I know what goes on inside that godforsaken place, I see it everyday.  You've let your feelings for Lacour blind you to all the secrets that he's hiding from you.  He knows something about what happened to Coren – I know he does.  If you don't believe me, then ask him yourself the next time you see him.  If he cares for you as much as you think he does, then he won't lie to you."

            The young woman let out an exasperated sound, "Folken does love me; and he was just as hurt and upset by Coren's death as anyone else – the two of them were friends too, you know.  If he knew anything at all about the accident then he would tell me – I trust him, Anton.  Despite what you think, Folken would have no reason to hold back something like that – he knows how important finding out what happened is to me."

            Lefebvre shook his head, "You don't understand Jindra – how he is with you is not how he is in the tower.  I've seen him there – seen how he is within the walls of that place.  I know you won't believe it, but he's just as cold and calculating as any of them – perhaps even more so.  I've heard that the emperor chose him to be his apprentice – personally selected him out of all the others in the tower.  I don't think you realize what kind of power and influence that gives him.  He might show you one face when he's with you Jindra; but believe me, he shows a completely different one when he's among his own kind."

            Jindra's anger had started to slowly well up and by the time Anton finished speaking, she knew that she couldn't hold back any longer.  "You're obsessed Anton – obsessed with this sick jealousy.  Unless you have any proof whatsoever about any of this, then I don't want to hear another word from you.  I don't know why you can't leave me in peace – why you can't leave Folken and I in peace.  Why can't you understand that I don't love you – I've never loved you, and I never will!"  

            Anton's jaw clenched in anger and the look he gave Jindra was hard and cold.  "I don't care if you love me or not, but I don't want to see you end up getting hurt because you put your trust in a man who has more secrets than you could possibly imagine.  What if what I've heard is true – what if I find the proof to convince you that I'm telling you the truth?"

            "If, Anton – if.  I don't believe there is any proof and I'm not sure I could trust anything that came from you.  All you have is rumor and conjecture – not to mention your own biased judgment.  Until there is proof – irrefutable proof -- then that's all you have; and I refuse to believe any of it."

            "Your being stupid Jindra – stupid and blind."

            Jindra had opened her mouth to give Anton a venomous reply when she saw the carriage approaching.  Biting back the words that were on her tongue, she picked up several of the parcels and haughtily approached the curb.  His arms laden with the remaining packages, Anton joined her just as the carriage pulled up alongside them.

            The driver quickly scrambled down and opened the door.  Doreena leaned out and took several of the bundles from Anton, "Thank you Lieutenant."  The young man gave her a small bow, but remained silent.  Jindra handed her packages to the driver before starting to climb up in the carriage.  With an angry glare, she shrugged off Lefebvre's attempt to assist her.  The driver passed the items to the two women inside and closed the door before returning to his seat up top.

            Jindra's eyes flashed with anger as she looked out the opened carriage window.  Anton's eyes were equally cold as he looked back at her.  Just as the carriage pulled away, the young man called out to her, "Remember what I've said Jindra – I will show you that I'm right."

            The young woman tore her eyes away from the window and crossed her arms over her chest.  Doreena looked at her daughter with worry, "Is something wrong Jindra?  You look quite put out.  Did the Lieutenant say something to upset you?"

            Jindra sighed and shook her head, "No . . . it's alright – it was nothing."  Her gaze turned towards the small window, "Although if I never see Anton Lefebvre again, it will be too soon."

            Her mother regarded her for a moment, wondering what had happened between the two of them; but she decided that perhaps this time it would be better to not say anything and let the matter drop.  The two women continued their journey home in silence.

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            Anton Lefebvre returned to the tower, grateful for the bottle of liquor that was safely stored inside his coat pocket.  If he ever thought he needed a drink, it was then.  He couldn't believe how blind and stubborn Jindra had been.  Lacour's influence over her was greater than he thought, but soon it would all be over and she would see that her precious Folken was just as deceitful and secretive as he had told her he was.

            As he walked towards his small room in the guard's quarters he looked out the windows as he passed.  He paused in mid-step as he saw the very object of his hatred down below crossing the main courtyard.  _What I wouldn't give for a bow right now; he thought.  __One quick shot and it would all be over.  As Lacour passed out of sight and into the other building, Lefebvre resumed walking.  _

            As Anton closed the door to his quarters, he took the small bottle from his pocket and quickly unscrewed the lid.  Drinking deeply, he winced as the liquor burned down his throat.  _I swear I'm going to kill that bastard before all this is over._


	57. Chapter FiftySeven

_FIFTY-SEVEN_

            Jindra Roh Lacour looked down at the two notes, one in each hand.  _Why did he send two?  Both notes were from her husband, delivered within an hour of each other.  The one in her left hand had been the second of the two and as she glanced down at it, she thought that the handwriting was a bit sloppy – as if it had been written rather hurriedly.  Folken's usually precise, but slightly slanted scrawl covered the page in her right hand.  As she reread the second note, she smiled.  __Of course, he probably didn't think he would be able to get away and meet me – that's why he sent this one._

            The second of Folken's notes had been to ask his wife to meet him in the park – in their special place a little later that afternoon.  Jindra frowned when she got to the part where Folken said he had something "very important" to talk to her about and that she should make every effort to meet him.  _He's probably mad at me for telling Mother . . . but even he has to see that it's better this way – no secrets, no lies.  She sighed; __well at least he's agreed to come and see my parents again . . . She regarded the first note__.  I know this isn't going to be easy for any of us, but it's all for the best._

            Shaking her head at the impossibility of husbands and parents, Jindra refolded the notes and started up the stairs to her bedroom.  _Maybe I should change . . . the dark blue with the silver scrollwork – I know Folken likes that one . . ._

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            Folken Lacour was about to open the door to his quarters when Marco Dimetra called to him from down the hallway.  Opening the door, he waited for the other man to join him.  "Marco – what's up?"

            "That's what I want to know."  The dark-haired man replied, his manner almost cold.

            The other man gave him a puzzled look, "I don't know what you mean."

            "Don't you?  Come off it Lacour, do you . . ." Marco stopped in mid-sentence as a voice sounded in the adjoining hallway.  "Do you think I'm a complete idiot?"

            "Of course not – but I don't have a clue about whatever it is that you're talking about."  

            "I just bet you don't," the older man spat out harshly.

            Folken shook his head, the puzzlement plain on his face.  "Look Marco, why don't you stop beating around the bush and just spit it out."

            Marco glanced up and down the hallway before he spoke, his voice a whisper.  "The accident," he watched as the color drained from Lacour's face and he swore.  "Good gods . . . "

            The younger man looked at his friend with sad eyes, "Marco . . . " He turned away for a few moments as he shut the door to his quarters.  "We – we shouldn't talk about this here . . ." 

            Folken glanced at the pained look on Marco's face as he stepped past him and started towards the stairs.  With a weary sigh, the dark-haired man followed.  

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            The two apprentice sorcerers quickly made their way out of the main hall and walked towards the small wooded area that separated it from the guard's quarters.  It was Marco who brought them to a halt.  Stopping, he grabbed Folken by the sleeve, forcing the other man to stop as well.  Marco's voice was harsh.  "I want you to tell me the truth Folken – I want you to tell me that it's not true, and that it's nothing more than a pack of vicious rumors."

            Folken swallowed; _I wish I could my friend – I really do.  "How much do you know, Marco?"_

            His companion regarded him for a moment before answering.  "Only what I've heard – that there was a design error in the 'melef . . . and that the military doesn't know anything about it."

            "Who told you?  It was supposed to be kept confidential."

            "C'mon Folken, you know how this place is." He replied a little harshly.  "So, is it true?"

            Lacour didn't answer, but the look on his face said it all.  Marco tipped his head back and took a deep breath, "Gods above and below . . ." He lowered his head and looked at his friend with sad eyes, "I didn't want to believe it . . ."

            The younger man dropped his eyes unable to bear the look on his friend's face.

            Marco swore under his breath and nervously ran his hand through his long dark hair.  "So what happened?"

            The other man turned away, "The weapons trigger . . . there was an error in the wiring schematics . . ." He heard Marco let out a deep breath.  Folken turned back around to face the other man.  "It was my design – it was my error."  His voice fell to a whisper, "I killed them Marco – both of them – just as if I had stabbed them in the heart with my own sword."

            "Gods above and below . . ." Marco's eyes widened as he looked at the outlander.  "But . . . Jindra's brother - -?"

            "I know," Folken bit back the sorrow and guilt he could feel building – he thought that he had conquered most of it, but now it was as if he had just made that horrible discovery all over again. 

            "Good gods . . . her brother . . . but you – she seemed to be alright when I saw her the other day.  She should have been devastated." 

            Folken looked away quickly, the guilt on his face unmistakable.

            Marco swore again, this time more loudly.  "She doesn't know . . . you haven't told her!" 

            The outlander shook his head, "I-I-I only just discovered it . . . after – after I returned to the tower."

            "And you still haven't told her?  It's been almost a week – why haven't you told her?"  Marco's eyes blazed and his voice was harsh with anger.

            "Why the hell do you think Marco?"  Folken's voice cracked with emotion, "How can I tell her that I'm responsible for her brother's death?"  He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.  "I love her so much . . . I-I  don't think I could bear it if she left me; and that's exactly what will happen when she finally does learn the truth."

            "So what – you were just going to pretend that you didn't know anything and then eventually break the news to her when you thought it wouldn't matter anymore?  When you had taken her away from her family and made sure that she had nowhere to go even if she did leave you."  The dark-haired man spat at him.  "I swear Lacour; you have to be the most despicable and cowardly bastard I've ever met in my life."  He turned away from the other man.  "I can't believe you . . ."

            "And you're so perfect and selfless?"  Folken's eyes blazed in anger, "What's it to you anyway, Dimetra?  Why are you so concerned about . . ." He broke off speaking as he caught a glimpse of someone in the hedge behind Marco.  "Who's there?  Show yourself!"

            Both men looked at the hedge as it rustled in response.  With a malicious smile on his handsome face, Anton Lefebvre stepped out.  

            Folken gasped as if he had just been punched in the stomach and he felt as if he was going to be sick.  Laughing, the former cadet turned and took off towards the front gate.

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            "No . . ." the word was barely a whisper as Folken Lacour slid to his knees, a sudden weakness overtaking him.  "No – gods, no;" his voice cracked and he felt the tears well up in his eyes.

            Marco swallowed as he looked at the pain-etched face of his friend.  _What have I done?  He knelt down at Folken's side.  "Folken . . .?"_

            "It's – it's all over Marco . . . " His voice was a choked whisper.

            "Folken . . ."

            The younger man looked up at his companion, his eyes haunted and tear-filled.  "I've lost her . . ." Folken dropped his eyes and let out a mournful sound that was something between a sob and a sigh.

            Marco felt the guilt wash over him in a torrent and he closed his eyes against the pain.  _I'm the despicable one – the coward . . . he never asked me for anything more than my friendship . . . he's the only person in this godforsaken place who ever gave a damn about me . . . He sniffed back tears of his own; __I-I can't – I can't do this!  I don't care – damn Garufo to the nine hells; but I can't do this!_

            "Folken," the older man reached out and touched his friend's shoulder.  "Folken – look at me."  He waited patiently for the other man to regain his composure and do as he was asked.  After several minutes, Lacour's wine-dark eyes looked up at him.

            Marco took a deep breath to steel himself.  "He hasn't won Folken – not yet anyway.  Go to her – go to Jindra and tell her the truth.  She loves you . . . I know it won't be easy, but at least give her the chance to hear the truth from you."  He gripped the younger man by his shoulders and looked intently into his eyes.  "If you don't, then you're just handing her over to him . . . after all the two of you have been through, you can't let him just take her without a fight."

            Folken looked at Marco for a few moments unwilling to let the other man's words sink into his pain-filled heart.  "But it's too late – I'll never get to Jin before he does.  I don't even know where she is."

            "Damn it Folken – listen to yourself!  Do you want Lefebvre to win?  You've told me how much you love her – how much you need her; well you stupid jackass – if you don't try to do something then you will lose her!"

            Lacour's eyes clouded with puzzlement, "H-How did you know his name?"

            Marco bit his lip as he realized his mistake.  He saw Folken's eyes widen, as if in understanding.  "Good gods Marco!"

            The outlander suddenly reached out and grabbed the dark-haired apprentice by the lapels of his coat.  "Y-You knew it!  You god-damned bastard!  You knew it."  He roughly pushed Marco backwards as he let go of him, and the older man sprawled to the ground.  Lacour angrily got to his feet.

            "You set me up – you knew he was there the whole time."  Folken clenched his fists as his eyes blazed with anger and hatred.  "Have you been feeding him information all along?  Was this the plan from the very beginning – that day that you first saw Jin and I together, it wasn't a coincidence was it?"  Reaching down, he grabbed Marco by his jacket once again and hauled him to his feet.  "To think that I was stupid enough to ever trust you -- that I could ever expect to find friendship in the black tower!  Why, Marco -- why?"

            Marco's voice was a whisper, "I-It wasn't – it wasn't Lefebvre."  He swallowed, "I-I didn't have any choice Folken . . . I didn't want to – you have to believe me.  But I – I couldn't  . . ." The older man visibly shuddered, "I couldn't take anymore – I couldn't . . ."

            Folken gripped Marco tighter and shook him, "Who Marco – who was it?"

            Dimetra shook his head wildly, "I-I can't . . . please Folken – I can't . . ." he almost sobbed.

            The outlander could see the pain and fear etched on Marco's features and he let go him, roughly pushing him away.  "Get out of my sight you bastard."  He said as he turned away from the other man.

            "Folken . . ."

            "I mean it Dimetra.  If you value your life – then you'll get the hell out of here right now!"  Folken took several deep breaths as he tried to control the rage that threatened to explode from within.

            The dark-haired apprentice looked at the other man's back for a few moments.  "The park – that's where he's headed.  Jindra is supposed to be there – she thinks she's meeting you."

            With one last look at his former friend, Marco Dimetra turned away and slowly walked away towards the main hall, his eyes filled with tears and his heart broken and in pain.

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            Folken heard Marco walk away; and when he was sure that the other man was out of earshot, he let out a rage-filled growl – all of his anger and hurt melding into an almost inhuman cry that startled the birds from the trees.  As his tears ran unchecked, Marco's words haunted him "_. . . after all the two of you have been through, you can't let him just take her without a fight."_

            Clenching his fists, Folken took several deep breaths as he tried to calm down and get his emotions under control.  _He's right – the damn bastard.  She'll probably hate me afterwards anyway . . . but I have to at least try.  I can't lose her – I can't!  After several minutes, his breathing started to return to normal and he slowly unclenched his fists._

            Taking one last deep breath, Folken closed his eyes.  _Please . . . please let me find the strength to do this.  Opening his eyes, he straightened his back and started towards the front gate.  He had only taken a few long strides, when he had a sudden thought.  Turning, he quickly ran back into the main hall.  Taking the steps two at a time, he returned to his quarters.  Opening the door, he hurried into his bedroom._

            Folken adjusted the scabbard that rested on his left hip.  He reassuringly gripped the hilt of the sword with his hand, the gold band on his third finger flashing in the sunlight.  _I'll be damned if I let him have her without a fight.  Once he was through the gate and out on the main street, the pale-haired outlander broke out into a run.  __Anton Lefebvre will have to kill me before he takes Jin away from me.  As he made his way down the street, Folken Lacour only hoped that he wasn't too late; and that his wife's love for him was strong enough to overcome yet one more heart-wrenching hurdle._


	58. Chapter FiftyEight

_FIFTY-EIGHT_

            "Damn it Jindra – it's true!  I heard the words right out of his mouth."  Anton Lefebvre's voice rose in anger.

            Jindra shook her head, her silvery-gray eyes shining with tears.  "How can you stand there and say something like that?  Gods Anton, you're talking about Coren!"  Her voice bristled with anger, "I can't believe you would use him to try and turn me against Folken.  After all your stories about how close you were – how much you loved him like a brother . . . it's sick – sick!"  She turned away from him.

            "You stupid girl," Lefebvre reached out and grabbed her by the arm.  "I swear I'm telling you the truth!  I was there – he confessed everything . . . the accident, the problem with the guymelef – his part in the scheme!  He killed your brother Jindra – he admitted it!"

            "Where's your proof Anton?"  Jindra wrenched her arm out of his painful grasp.  "Do you think I'm just going to accept your word?"

          He let out an exasperated sound as his dark blue eyes glared into hers.  "What do you want Jindra – a written confession?  Will that satisfy you?"

            "Like I could trust that it was Folken's handwriting," she shot back venomously and almost regretted it when Anton growled deep in his throat.

            "Goddamn it – why do you have to be so blind and stubborn?  You refuse to see the truth when it's staring you right in the face!"

            "And just who's truth are you talking about Anton . . . yours?"  She snorted her disgust.

            "What kind of hold does that freak have over you Jindra?"

            "Don't – don't you dare call him that!"  Jindra's eyes blazed and the color had risen in her face.  "You've hated Folken from the very start – hated him because I fell in love with him instead of you.  You've let yourself become consumed by this obsessive jealousy, and you've let it take over your life.  It's eaten away at you Anton until I don't even recognize you anymore."

            She took a breath to steady her voice, "You and I were friends once – good friends.  You were there for me when Coren first went away, and I'll always be grateful to you for that.  But somewhere along the line, the Anton Lefebvre that I knew started to disappear – and a man that I didn't like at all moved into his body." 

            The young woman sniffed and wiped at her cheeks with her fingers.  "You need help Anton, you need to find someone who can bring that man back – the one that I knew before; the one who was kind and courteous; and maybe a just little too formal and proper."  She swallowed again, "That Anton Lefebvre would never have found such demented pleasure in hurting those that he cared about."

            Lefebvre titled his head back and let out an exasperated sigh.  Biting back his anger a little, he looked back at the young woman before him.  "Do you think telling you this was an easy thing for me to do, Jindra?  When I heard Lacour say those words . . . it was like someone punched me in the stomach and left me lying in the dirt."  He swallowed and took a breath, "I'm not telling you this because I hate Folken Lacour . . . my personal feelings about him are immaterial to what is really important – Coren.  Your precious lover from the black tower is responsible for his death – and he should be held accountable for what he's done."

            He looked at Jindra, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold; her tears falling from her eyes even as she tried to get herself under control.  Taking a chance, Anton stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders.  "I-I wasn't the only one there, Jindra."  She looked up at him, her eyes puzzled and afraid.  "Lacour was confessing all of this to someone else when – when I overheard him.  If you won't believe me, than ask his friend – the one with the long dark hair . . . Dimetra I think his name is."

            Anton watched Jindra's bottom lip quiver. "M-M-Marco . . .?" The young woman managed to stutter out.

            Releasing her shoulders, Lefebvre nodded his head.  "Lacour told him everything."

            "N-N-No . . ." the word was barely a whisper.

            "He – somehow he learned of it and confronted Lacour about it.  He didn't even try to deny it, Jindra; he openly confessed everything."

            Jindra began to tremble and she shook her head almost violently, "N-No . . . no – I don't believe it . . ."

            Anton grabbed her shoulders once again, afraid that she might do herself harm by thrashing about.  "Jindra . . . please don't – try to calm down . . ."

            He wrapped his arms around her and held her, all the while murmuring what he hoped were comforting words.  _I'm sorry my love – sorry that you have to go through this.  But it will be alright soon, I promise.  _

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            Folken Lacour hurried towards the small clearing, his heart racing from running and also in fear of what was to come.  He stopped several yards away however, when he saw Anton Lefebvre and Jindra – his wife in the former cadet's embrace.  He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he felt his heart clench.  _I'm too late!  Damn it all – I'm too late!_

            As he watched the couple, he felt a slow burning anger begin to build; and with it, a surge of red-hot jealousy.  _The bastard – she's my__ wife!  The outlander once again gripped the hilt of his sword, as if he could gather strength and courage from it.  __He hasn't won yet – and he won't get her without a fight.  Steeling himself, Folken Lacour took a breath and started forward._

            "Jin!"  The outlander's voice was surprisingly strong and steady.  "Jin!"

            Folken watched as Jindra lifted her head and slowly turned towards the voice that called her name.  He was still quite a few feet away when his wife pulled away from Lefebvre and the other man let her go.  Jindra looked at him and Folken bit his lip at the hurt that was reflected in her wide, tear-filled eyes.

            "F-Folken . . .?" her voice sounded confused.  "W-What . . .?" She looked back at Anton Lefebvre before returning her gaze back to the pale-haired man who stopped in front of her.  "Folken . . . I-I don't – I don't understand . . ." Jindra looked so confused that Folken was afraid that she was disoriented from shock.  "W-Why are you here?  H-How did – how did you know to come here?

            "Jin," he reached out and took her hand, "We need – you and I need to talk . . . there are some things that I need to talk to you about – that I need to tell you."

            Jindra looked down at their joined hands and then back up at her husband's face.   "Folken . . . I-I don't . . ." she said softly.

            "We'll find somewhere quiet, where we can talk privately."

            The young woman tore her hand away and stepped back, "No!"

            Lacour felt tears in his eyes as he saw the look on his wife's face.  "Jin, please . . . just come with me – we can work this out . . . just let me explain everything . . ."

            "No!  I'm not going anywhere with you . . . you – you liar!"

            The young apprentice felt something within him break and he momentarily closed his eyes as if in pain.  "Jin . . . I know that you're upset and shocked, but – but just give me a chance . . . whatever he said – whatever he told you isn't the whole story, it's only what he wanted you to know.  Just let me explain . . ."

            "Explain what?  That you were responsible for my brother's death?  That you never had any intention of telling me about it!"  Jindra sobbed as she brought one of her hands up across her mouth.

            Folken swallowed, "No Jin – it was an accident . . . yes, it was my fault, but it was an accident."  He sniffed back tears, "I was going to tell you . . . "

            "When – Folken, when?"  She had dropped her hand and now stood face to face with him, her eyes blazing.  "After we had gone away . . . five or six years from now – or maybe it was going to be on your deathbed -- just when the hell were you going to tell me?"  

            "It's not . . ."

            "How long have you known Folken?  When did you find out?"  Jindra balled up her fists and hit him in the chest.  "Damn you Folken!  How long have you known?"  She hit him again, "Did you know when we got married?  Damn you – tell me!"  Folken closed his eyes and remained silent while his wife continued to pound on his chest.

            Anton Lefebvre gasped aloud at Jindra's words.  _Married . . . dear gods, no!  No – she didn't . . . she couldn't have!  His chest felt tight and he found it hard to breath._

            "Answer me you bastard!"  Jindra screamed at him.  "Did you know when you married me?"  Folken caught her wrists as she raised her fists once more and looked down at her.  His eyes glistened with unshed tears and there was such a sad and haunted look on his face that Jindra let out a mournful wail as she wrenched her arms free.  

            Folken stared at his wife's bent head as she sobbed, one hand clutched to her breast and the other pressed up to her mouth.  He was vaguely aware of Anton Lefebvre still standing nearby, but dismissed the man – his attention squarely on the crying woman in front of him.  "J-Jindra . . ." His throat had gone dry and he swallowed.  "I-I swear to you, I didn't know – I didn't know until after, when I returned to the tower."

            "I'm sorry, so sorry . . . please try to understand . . . I was going to tell you, I really was.  B-But I was afraid – afraid to see the look on your face . . . I-I had just pledged my life to you – how the hell was I supposed to tell you that I was responsible for Coren's death?"

            Jindra sobbed even harder as she heard Folken's last words and then she suddenly darted past him, running towards the main path.  She had not gone very far, when her husband's voice and his grip on her arm brought her to a halt.  Lacour pulled his wife around to face him, before letting go of her arm; "Jin . . ."

            But Jindra turned her face away and refused to look at him.  The two stood like that for several long minutes, oblivious to anything or anyone else around them.

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            Anton Lefebvre had almost called out to Jindra as she ran away; but when Lacour's much longer stride quickly overtook her, he thought that perhaps it might be better to remain silent.  He was still reeling from Jindra's earlier declaration that she had married the outlander.  The words had hit him like a lead weight and he still found it hard to believe.  Everything that he had dreamed, everything that he had planned and schemed for – now ground into the dirt when he learned that Jindra had given herself to the one man that he hated more than anything in the world.  For the first time in a long time, Anton Lefebvre once again felt like his entire world had come crashing down around him.  Not since the local magistrate had come to his family's home to turn them out and take possession of it as payment for his father's gambling debts, had he felt so angry and powerless.  

            Clenching his fists tightly, the young man tried to block out the visions that came to him of Jindra in the arms of Folken Lacour, the two of them celebrating their marriage in the most intimate way possible.  With a hoarse cry, he pressed his fists to his eyes.  _It should have been me!  She ruined everything – herself, our future together . . . damn her.  Rubbing at his eyes with his long fingers, Anton felt the tears slip between his fingers.  __Damn her, the whoring little bitch!  _

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           Jindra sniffed several times as she tried to get herself back under control.  Stepping back a little, she looked up at Folken.  Her husband had his head bowed, but she could see the wetness of tears on his face.  She quickly glanced back down at the ground in front of her, her heart and head in turmoil.  Swallowing, she looked back up Folken.  Almost as if sensing his wife's eyes on him, the young man raised his head up and met her gaze.  As Jindra looked into her husband's tear filled eyes, she felt her heart well up and break.

             "I don't understand you Folken . . . I guess I never really did.  I never understood how you could say that you love me, and yet not trust me at the same time.  I wish I knew who hurt you – or what really happened to make you like this; but it seems like I'm always the last to know anything about you."   Her voice was soft, and surprisingly somewhat steady.  "But that always seems to be at the heart of everything with us – that you can't trust me." 

            She sniffed and swallowed again.  "But I trusted you – I trusted you enough to marry you.  I trusted you enough that I was willing to give up my home and family to be with you."   Overwhelmed with tears again, she fell silent once more and turned away a little.

            Folken glanced at Jindra, her words still burning in his mind.  He saw that she was once again clutching at something on her chest and he belatedly realized that it was the pendant he had given her as a betrothal present.  He clenched his fists as he blinked his eyes and took several deep breaths.  "J-Jin . . . it's never been you . . . everything that's happened has been because of me."  He swallowed and licked his lips "It wasn't you that I didn't trust . . . I didn't trust myself."  He paused when Jindra looked up at him.

            "I-I was always so afraid that I couldn't ever be what you needed me to be – that I was going to let you down and disappoint you, like I've always done."   He blinked several times.  "But what I was really afraid of was that I wouldn't be able to love you enough . . ." Folken broke off as his emotions once again became too much.

            Jindra clutched at her pendent with both hands as she started crying once again.  "So you think that lying to me and keeping something so important from me is your way of showing that you love me?"  She shook her head, "You knew how important finding out what happened was to me.  How many times did I talk to you about the accident?  How many times did I tell you that I didn't believe that what happened was Coren's fault?  Gods above and below Folken, you knew all that and you kept silent about everything!"  

            She took several deep breaths and looked down at the pendant cupped in her hands.  Swallowing, she looked up at the man in front of her.  "Because of you, my father hates me and won't even speak to me . . . because of you my brother is dead . . . damn you Folken -- my whole life is ruined because of you!"  She let out a sob.  "What am I supposed to do now?"

            Folken reached out towards his wife, but she moved away from him.  "D-Don't Jin . . . I know I've hurt you, but please . . . do you want me to beg you?  Do you want me on my knees?  I'll do it – I'll do anything you want; just please don't do this – don't leave me!"

            Jindra's sobs increased as Folken pleaded with her and she found it very hard to breathe.  Turning away from her husband's tortured eyes, she looked back down at the pendent in her hand, her marriage ring hanging on the chain next to it.  She gripped the gold chain in her hand and pulled it until it snapped and broke.  The young woman looked at the broken chain and pendant in her hand as her tears ran unchecked down her face.

            Turning back towards Folken, Jindra looked at him for a few moments as she tried to find the strength to speak.  "What I want is for you to leave me alone – I don't want to know you, I don't want to see you;" she threw the necklace down at his feet in the grass.  "And I most certainly don't want to be your wife!"

            Folken's chest constricted and he found it hard to breath.  "I hope you shrivel up and die in that tower Folken – and then I hope you rot in whatever hell people like you go until the end of all time.  I hate you – I hate you!"  Turning away from him, Jindra took off running towards the main path – her sobs following in her wake.

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            Anton Lefebvre watched the couple from across the small clearing.  Jindra's voice rose several times and he could only catch a few words of what she was saying to the outlander.  He watched as she pulled something from her neck and threw it down at Lacour's feet.  Her voice rose once again as she yelled, "I hate you" at the man before turning a running once again.

            He watched as Lacour looked down at whatever was in the grass at his feet.  The outlander seemed almost frozen, as if he were in shock.  With some satisfaction, Anton started forward – intent on following the fleeing young woman.

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            Folken's eyes were so clouded with tears that he couldn't even see the necklace that lay broken at his feet.  Closing his eyes against the despair that slowly washed over him, he went down on his knees and his hand scrambled in the grass until his fingers brushed across the smooth crystal of the pendent.  Grabbing up the necklace, he clutched it to his breast as he cried.  "Jin . . . Jin . . ."

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            Jindra had been forced to slow her flight to a stumbling walk as she gasped for breath.  She was crying so hard that she feared that she might start to hyperventilate.  Forcing herself to stop, she wearily leaned on the trunk of a nearby tree and rested her forehead on her arm as she tried to catch her breath.  It was quite sometime before her breathing had slowed enough that she no longer felt light-headed.  Raising her head, she took several deep breaths and wiped at her eyes with shaking fingers.  Turning away from the tree, she almost jumped when she saw Anton standing a few feet away.

            "What the hell do you want?"

            "I wanted to make sure that you were alright," Lefebvre slowly came towards her.  "You were so distraught . . . I was worried about you."

            "Of course I'm distraught you stupid bastard," she said, her voice harsh and sarcastic sounding.  "I just found out that my husband is responsible for my brother's death . . . I think I'm entitled to be a little distraught."

            Anton winced when she said the word husband.  "Don't take your anger at Folken Lacour out on me, Jindra."

            She looked at him, her eyes hard and cold.  "What am I supposed to do Anton?  Am I supposed to fall on my knees and thank you for rescuing me from the clutches of that evil sorcerer?"  She moved closer to him, "You're even more despicable then he is.  You and Folken Lacour deserve each other."

            "Jindra . . ."

             "So what was the rest of your plan, Anton?  Was I supposed to run into your arms heartbroken and ripe for the picking?  Was I supposed to allow my dear friend to comfort me?  Is that how it was supposed to be – that after a few weeks of your attentions that I'd consent to be your wife; and you'd finally get what you've wanted for so long?"  She felt her tears returning and she hastily blinked them away.  "I can't believe that you would try to use Coren's death as a means to satisfy your obsession with having me!  It's sick Anton – sick and perverted!"

            Lefebvre growled deep in his throat and he grabbed her arm and yanked her closer to him.  "Damn you . . . you should be grateful that I'm even still willing to have you Jindra; especially since your reputation has been ground into the mud.  Not only did you give yourself to that outlander freak, but you're going to be divorced as well.  With all of that hanging over you, no decent man would ever take you."

            "Then I guess it's a good thing you're here then, huh Anton."  She shot back venomously as she pulled her arm free from his grasp.

            "Ungrateful little bitch!"  Anton's hand shot out and he backhanded her across the face.

            Jindra stumbled back as her hand went immediately to her stinging cheek.  Lefebvre clenched his fists at his side, "See what you've done Jindra – do you see what you've turned me into?"  He stepped towards her.  The young woman scrambled backwards as Anton advanced on her.  "How much of your disdain and flippant behavior did you think I could take?  This is all your doing."

            "Don't Anton – I swear if you touch me again you'll be sorry.  I'll go to my father – I'll tell him what you've done."  Jindra had backed up as far as she could go, the rough bark of a tree pricking her skin through the fabric of her overdress.  "One more step and you'll be the sorriest man on the face of Gaea, I swear it."

            Anton stopped, his eyes blazing as he clenched and unclenched his fists nervously.  Almost near hysteria, Jindra slowly inched away from the tree – her eyes never leaving the man across from her.  When she thought there was enough distance between them, she quickly darted away down the main path again – her heart pounding with fear.

            Lefebvre let her go – his own anger still red hot in his veins.  _Run you little bitch – run all you like . . . but you'll pay for betraying me Jindra – oh yes, you ungrateful little whore, you'll pay._

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            Erich Roh was seated at the large wooden desk in his private study, reading over a stack of trade agreements that had been sent over from his office.  As he read, he occasionally jotted notes and questions down on a separate sheet of paper.  He was interrupted by an urgent knock on the door.  Without waiting for Erich's reply, the door opened.

            "Excuse me sir," the footman gave him a hurried bow.  "I know you didn't wish to be disturbed but . . ."

            "What is it Collins – I'm rather busy."

            "Its – well sir, the constable has come . . . and – and he's brought Miss Jindra home."

            Erich jumped up from his seat, "What?"  He all but ran through the door and into the hall.  He saw Jindra standing between two men who were wearing the uniform of the local constabulary, "Jindra?"

            The young woman looked up at her father's voice and Erich's breath caught in his throat.  Jindra's hair was disheveled, her eyes were red and puffy from crying, and there was what looked like the beginnings of a bruise on her cheek. Rushing to her approaching father, she practically threw herself into his arms.

            Instinctively, Erich's arms encircled his daughter.  He could feel her trembling as she sobbed into his chest.  An overwhelming fear began to creep over him and he quickly looked up at the two men waiting in the hall.

            "What's going on?  What is the meaning of this?"

            The older looking of the men stepped forward, "I'm not entirely sure, sir.  Your daughter was in the park – apparently huddled under a tree crying.  Some passersby thought that she might have met with some . . . well with some trouble."  The man looked a little uncomfortable.  "We tried to talk to her but she wouldn't say anything . . . we did eventually get her to tell us her name and where she lived – but she refuses to say anything else."

            Erich's heart clenched in fear and the breath hissed between his teeth, "Oh gods . . . " His arms tightened around his crying daughter.  _Please, no . . . not that . . . please, not that . . ._

            "We were hoping that maybe the young lady would be willing to tell us what happened now that she's home safe."  The constable said.

            Erich kissed the top of Jindra's head, "Jindra – love . . . please you have to tell me what happened."  He pulled away from her and she looked up at him.  "Jindra . . . if someone has hurt you, you have to tell me."

            Jindra looked up at her father as she broke out sobbing once again, "Oh Father . . . I-I should have listened to you . . . I've made a mistake – a terrible mistake."  She buried her face in her father's jacket once more.


	59. Chapter FiftyNine

_FIFTY-NINE_

            Folken Lacour stalked through the corridors of the sorcerer's tower, all the anger and rage that he felt clearly visible on his face.  Those that he encountered quickly moved out of his way and dropped their eyes from the intensity of his dark gaze. The pale-haired man paid no notice, as he made his way towards the apprentice quarters.

            The young man had remained in the park clearing for sometime riding out the waves of despair and anger that had almost drowned him.  In one afternoon he had watched his new marriage crumble away, lost the woman that he loved and been betrayed by a man he thought was a friend whom he could trust.  The look on Jindra's face and the coldness of her words as she had thrown her marriage ring at his feet still haunted Folken as he made his way through the shadowed halls.  The pain and despair that he had felt after Jindra had run away from him had slowly given way to a deep-seated anger and rage; and it was those same feelings that had followed him all the way back to the sorcerer's tower.

            Despite his pledge not to give up his wife to Anton Lefebvre without a fight, the former cadet had managed to slip away before there had been any chance for a confrontation.  Folken wondered if the man was at that very moment with Jindra – offering whatever comfort he thought might turn the young woman's affections towards him.  Lacour growled in his throat as he thought about Jindra in Lefebvre's arms and he felt a surge of jealousy that made him grit his teeth in anger.  Folken wanted nothing more than to lash out and hit something – or more specifically, someone.  Lefebvre . . . Marco . . . it didn't matter to him; even Jindra had been an object of his wrath for a short time.  

            _Jin.  The young man clenched his fists as her distraught and weeping face once again swam before his eyes.  A mournful sigh escaped from Folken's throat and he blinked back tears that he felt forming in his dark eyes.  After all the two of them had been through – all the heartache that had threatened to separate them time and again – it looked as if they had finally met with the one thing that their love could not overcome.  Although he had not resigned himself completely to believing that Jindra would never forgive him and take him back, Folken found that he didn't hold out much hope of the two of them reconciling either.  He believed that his time he had hurt her too much – caused her too much pain and disappointment – for her to ever forgive him.  __I've got no one to blame but myself . . ._

            _I should have told her . . . I should have told her everything from the very beginning.  Damn them – damn them all!  Lefebvre . . . Marco . . . this whole godforsaken place . . . _

            When Folken reached the stairs that would have taken him to his own rooms, he instead turned and continued on.  Stopping in front of Marco Dimetra's door, Lacour pounded on it.  "Dimetra!"  He pounded once again.  "I know you're in there you bastard," the young man tried the doorknob, but it was locked.  "I swear I'll break it down . . ."

            After waiting a few moments, Folken swung his metal hand against the door, above the knob; but it remained closed.  With a frustrated growl in his throat, the young man kicked at the dark wood with everything he had and was rewarded when the force of his kick broke the lock and the door swung inward.

            His left hand tightly gripping the hilt of his sword, Folken strode into Marco Dimetra's quarters and slammed the door.

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            With a slightly shaking hand, Marco Dimetra raised the wine glass to his lips and quickly drained its dark contents in one deep swallow.  Reaching for the cut-glass decanter, he poured himself another generous glassful.  Sitting there staring at the dark maroon liquid before him, the apprentice let out a small cry and buried his face in his arms on the tabletop.

            After leaving Folken Lacour, the dark-haired man had returned to his quarters and quickly gathered together some clothing and other items and had left the sorcerer's tower.   Marco didn't want to be around when Folken returned and he definitely didn't want to be anywhere nearby when Garufo learned that his puppet had been unable to complete his betrayal of the young outlander.

            _The only two people in the whole world who ever gave a damn about me, and what did I do to them?  Marco let out another mournful cry as he recalled the look on Folken's face when Anton Lefebvre had stepped out of the hedge so gleefully.  __They didn't deserve that – gods above and below, no one deserved that.  Lifting his head, he stared at the wineglass once again.  The dark-haired apprentice recalled Folken's words, "And you're so perfect and selfless?" _

            _No . . . I'm just a coward – a gutless coward.  Lifting the glass to his lips, Marco titled his head back and once again quickly drained the glass. __Always have been . . . always will be.  Marco Dimetra blinked his dark brown eyes against the tears that threatened to fall as he reached to refill his empty glass._

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            Folken left Marco's empty bedroom and went back out into the front room.  _Where are you – you bastard?  He looked around the room again, and his eyes fell on Dimetra's worktable.  Lying on top of the brown wrapping paper that had encased it, was the watercolor that Jindra had painted for Marco as a thank-you gift from the young couple; Folken had never seen the painting, in fact he wasn't even sure what the gift had been when he had delivered it to the dark-haired man._

            Looking down at his wife's work, the young man once again felt the rage well up and a growl escaped from his throat as he swept the watercolor off the table with his metal hand.  Clenching his fists, he looked down at the painting – its dark wooden frame now broken by the impact when it had hit the wall before falling to the floor.  _Damn you Dimetra – you coward!  You will tell me who did this . . . _

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            Anton Lefebvre sat at a table in the shadowy back of the tavern, a half-finished bottle of Egzardian liquor in front of him.  The young man was still reeling from the events of earlier that afternoon.  With a curse, he reached for the bottle and took a swig – he had not even bothered with the small glass that the barmaid had brought – and closed his eyes as the strong dark amber liquid burned down his throat.  _Ungrateful little bitch . . . with yet another curse, Lefebvre slammed his fist down on the tabletop; oblivious to the curious glances that were cast his way._

            After Jindra had run away from him in the park, Anton had been so filled with rage that he had taken his sword and hacked away at the shrubs and trees; leaving a swath of destruction that looked as if a small battle had taken place.  He still couldn't believe that Jindra had actually married Folken Lacour; and he could not rid himself of the visions that plagued him of her in the sorcerer's arms, while the two consummated their union.  _Why?  Why did you do it?  You let him ruin you . . . you were mine Jindra – mine!  It should have been me – me!  Damn you, you whoring little bitch!_

            Lefebvre took a deep breath as he felt the rage start to rise once more;  he didn't want to lose control again – the girl had already driven him to the edge of reason and he could not allow her to do so again.  Since leaving the park, the young man had thought more and more about the chain of events that had led up to this afternoon's finale and the more he thought – the more he pieced together – Anton began to see the truth of what Garufo had done.  In his quest to ruin the outlander, Garufo had used Anton as a pawn, gleaning information from him and manipulating him – all the while using Lefebvre's desire for Jindra Roh against him.  _All his sly little remarks – the looks; damn the hateful bastard – he knew it; somehow he knew what they had done._

            Taking another deep draught from the near empty bottle, Anton swore silently to himself.  _He's probably sitting in that godforsaken tower like a fat bloated spider, rubbing his hands gleefully – not only did he break Lacour, but he played me for a love-sick fool as well.  Damn you Garufo – damn you to the nine hells!  Lefebvre drained what was left of the bottle and then signaled the barmaid to bring him another. _

            The serving girl had just departed when a shadow fell across the table.  Anton looked up into the face of the man he had just been cursing and he felt his anger rise.  But before he had a chance to speak or act, Garufo slid into the seat across from him.  "_Tsk, tsk Sergeant.  You look like you're drowning your sorrows instead of celebrating your good fortune."_

            "Good fortune is it?  I should gut you here and now, you patronizing bastard."  Anton's eyes flared with anger, his voice a low growl.

            Garufo smiled at him, "Go right ahead and try Lefebvre; you'll be dead before you even draw your sword."

            Lefebvre glared at him and took a drink to steady his temper.  "You knew it, didn't you?  You knew that the two of them had married.  Was that part of your plan, too – to make me look like a complete fool?"

            The other man spread his hands wide, "I assure you Sergeant, I only learned of it this morning.  I was just as shocked as you by it – Lacour went against every oath of the tower by wedding the girl . . . "

            "Demons take your oaths and your precious tower . . ."

            Garufo's eyes narrowed, "I'd watch my words if I were you Lefebvre . . ."

            "Why?  What are you going to do?  Kill me – make me disappear?"  Anton's voice was as cold as the look in his dark blue eyes, "I don't think so; and you know why?  Because I bet that Folken Lacour would give anything to know who orchestrated this whole scheme – to know the name of the man who was responsible for the destruction of his life.  I saw the look on his face Garufo – and it was the look of a man who had nothing left to lose . . . a man out for blood."

            The sorcerer laughed, "Well done my dear Lefebvre, well done."  He gave the young man a cold smile, "Ah, would that you had come to the tower long ago . . .  yes, well done indeed."  He reached for the bottle of liquor and poured some into Anton's unused glass.  Lifting it, Garufo toasted the man in front of him.  "Truly I have not enjoyed myself so much . . . this has indeed been a merry game."  He quickly downed his drink.

            "Game . . . is that what this was to you?  Playing with people's lives – destroying them . . . "

            "Lacour had to learn his place . . . unfortunately, a few bystanders had to be expended – but it couldn't be helped."

            Anton put his hand on the hilt of his sword; but before he could draw it, Garufo's voice stopped him cold.  "I wouldn't if I were you Lefebvre . . . not unless you want to die where you sit.  After all of your hard work, it would be a shame to have to kill you before you get your reward."

            The young man slowly removed his hand and put it back on the table in front of him.  "What are you talking about – what reward?"

            "Jindra Roh of course; you do still want the girl don't you?"  Garufo smiled to himself as he saw the lust and anger that burned in the young man's eyes.  "True, she's far from being an innocent young lady now," he heard the growl that escaped from Anton's throat and inwardly he smiled once again.  "But that doesn't mean that you still can't have what you've desired for so long, does it?"

            "I couldn't dishonor my family by marrying a divorced woman."  Anton replied as if he were trying to convince himself of his words as well.

            "Marry – who said anything about marrying the girl?"

            Lefebvre's eyes narrowed, "You sick . . ."

            "Temper, temper Lefebvre . . . always so quick to judge others – especially when you are far from innocent yourself."  Garufo leaned across the table, his voice falling to a whisper.  "What if I were to tell you that the sweet Miss Roh had in fact given herself to Lacour long before the two of them had married?  That she had been his little bed-mate for some months past?"

            "Liar – I don't believe you!  I know her – she would never do such a thing!"

            "Still defending her to the end I see – how virtuous;" he gave Anton a cold smile.  "Such a pity she isn't as well."

            "Damn you – you bastard!  Haven't you done enough already – haven't you had your fill of sick amusement yet?"

            "I'm only trying to help you Lefebvre – I do so much want to keep my end of our agreement; or don't you want what you have coming to you?"

            Anton took a deep drink and looked at the half-empty bottle in front of him.  "My honor will not allow me to take a divorced woman as my wife."

            Garufo laughed and the sound made Lefebvre's skin crawl.  "Your honor – and just where has your precious honor gotten you Lefebvre?  It left your family heavily in debt and poverty-stricken . . . it got you expelled from the best military academy in Zaibach and left you to find employment as a lowly guard . . . and finally, scorned by a woman who instead chose to take some upstart outlander freak to her bed like a common streetwalker – oh yes Sergeant, your honor has given you so much."

            Anton growled deep in his throat and he instinctively reached out and grabbed the sorcerer by the neck, "Shut up you bastard – " Anton felt the prick of the knife blade in his back and he caught his breath.  With a poisonous glare, he let Garufo go.  It was several long seconds before the feeling of the knife in his back disappeared.

            "Did you think I was joking Lefebvre?"  Garufo readjusted his collar and his cloak.  He poured out a glass and pushed it towards the young man, "Now why you don't you have another drink, you and I still have a few things left to discuss."

            Anton Lefebvre lifted the glass to his lips and downed the dark amber liquor in one deep swallow.  _This is all your fault Jindra – how could you do this to me?  I would have done anything for you – I would have gone down on my knees and begged you . . . why?  Why did you do it?_

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            Jindra Roh Lacour lay on her bed, her face pressed into the pillow.  It had been some time since she had ceased crying, but she still couldn't find the strength to lift her head or move her body.  Still crying on her father's shoulder, Erich Roh had carried his daughter up the stairs and put her to bed.  He had stayed with her, holding her hand, while she cried herself out.  After a while, the young woman had drifted off to sleep – exhausted from her emotional ordeal.  Smoothing his daughter's hair with a gentle hand, Erich had kissed the top of her head and quietly left the room.  Deeply troubled and on the verge of tears himself, he had once again retreated to the quiet solace of his study.

            Jindra had haltingly told her father that she and Folken had fought – that was why she had been crying when the constables had found her.  She had lied and told him that Folken had told her that he had no intention of leaving Zaibach and that he had made a mistake in marrying her and now wanted to sever their union.  It had hurt her to lie to her father, but she couldn't find the courage to tell him the truth – and she wasn't sure that she ever would.  When Erich had questioned her about the bruise on her cheek, she had only said that she had been so upset that she had run into a tree by accident.  Jindra could see the doubt in her father's eyes, but she swore that it was the truth and that Folken had never laid a hand on her.  She had pleaded with her father not to press charges against the outlander and Erich had reluctantly agreed.  Jindra insisted that she never wanted to see Folken Lacour again and that he could rot in the nine hells for all she cared.  Her father had been taken aback by the vehement anger in his daughter's voice and he felt his own heart breaking as she begged him to forgive her for making such a terrible mistake.

            Sitting in his study, Erich Roh clenched his fists in anger.  Folken Lacour had hurt his daughter – perhaps not physically, although that still remained to be seen as far as Erich was concerned; but the outlander had broken Jindra's heart and along with it, her spirit.  The haunting sadness in his daughter's eyes when she had told him what happened had almost been more than Erich had been able bear, and he was damned if he would allow Folken Lacour to go unpunished for ruining his daughter's life.  As he thought about the various ways to make the outlander pay for what he had done, Erich heard his wife's voice in the hallway and he closed his eyes and sighed.  Although Doreena had not approved of their daughter's marriage, she had been more willing than he to try to accept Lacour into their family; and Erich was not looking forward to telling her what had happened.

            Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Erich Roh rose from his seat and slowly made his way to the door; _I swear that bastard will pay for what he's done to my daughter – he'll be sorry he ever set a foot in Zaibach before I'm through with him._

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            Wrenching open the door, Folken Lacour left Marco's empty rooms; leaving the door open behind him.  He had fumed and paced about the front room for over two hours waiting for the older apprentice to return; all the while, playing over in his mind what he would do to Marco when he finally did return.  He would make Dimetra tell him who had set him up, if it wasn't Lefebvre, although the young outlander still believed that Anton was the main culprit.  Folken could think of no one else who would have gone through so much trouble to separate he and Jindra – Lefebvre had practically told him that he would do everything in his power to take the young woman away from him.  _But how the hell did he get Marco to help him?  What did he have on him?_

            Folken thought about the terrified look on Marco's face when the outlander had demanded that he tell him who had set him up.  Lacour couldn't ever remember seeing such fear in anyone's eyes and he wondered once again just what Lefebvre had done to Marco in order to get the dark-haired man to help him.  As he made his way to his own quarters, Folken found that some of his anger at Dimetra had started to dissipate – only to be replaced with a sense of foreboding and pity.

            Opening the door to his rooms, the young apprentice found his feelings about Marco Dimetra to be quite confused.  Marco had betrayed him to Anton Lefebvre, but in the end he had told Folken to go to Jindra – and more importantly, where to find the young woman.  _Almost as if he couldn't go through with it . . ._

            Slamming the door behind him, Folken threw himself down in one of the side chairs and let his tears flow once more.  _Damn you Marco . . . where are you?  I need to talk to you – you might be the only one who can help me now.  _


	60. Chapter Sixty

_SIXTY_

            "Gods above and below, Dimetra . . . I never believed you were a genius, but how could you have been so stupid?"  Juri Selanne shook his head and sighed as he regarded the dark-haired man sitting before him.

            Marco Dimetra squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments before looking back up at the other man.  "Please Juri . . ." the young man's voice sounded strangled.  "Please – you have to help me . . . "

            Selanne raised his brow at the man's words.  "Just what makes you think that I have to do anything for you?"

            Marco felt his heart sink at the tone of the other man's voice.  Going to Juri Selanne had taken away any pride that the young man thought that he had left, and he was willing to go down on his knees and beg the sorcerer for his help if need be.  

            The dark-haired apprentice had thought long and hard into the night, drinking his way through several bottles of wine, before scrawling out a rambling note begging Selanne to meet him in at the small inn where he had taken refuge.  That Juri had even shown up was a surprise; and when the older man stepped through the door and into Marco's shadowed room, the young man had felt a sense of relief and hope wash over him.

            Dimetra haltingly told Selanne an abbreviated version of the events that had transpired over the past year – from Folken Lacour's secret relationship with Jindra Roh, to the couple's eventual marriage and his own part in making it happen; and how Garufo had used him to betray Lacour to Anton Lefebvre.  Almost on the edge of tears, Marco had told the older man of his abuse and punishment at the hands of the other sorcerer; and that he had only agreed to help Garufo in his scheme to ruin Folken because he couldn't bear it any longer.  After he finished, the young man had taken several long draughts from yet another bottle of wine as he waited for Selanne's reaction and reply.

            Despite all his years in the tower, Juri Selanne had a reputation for being a fair man – he very rarely spoke out against anyone and usually kept his personal opinions to himself.  It was the older man's knowledge and design skills that had guided him through the ranks of the tower and into a position of some power and influence.  Juri had been the third sorcerer that Marco had served under during his time as an apprentice and he had been the most patient and to a certain degree, understanding.  Although the man had never approved of what Dimetra was or how he chose to spend his personal time, Selanne had always treated him equally when they were among the other apprentices.

            Looking at Juri Selanne's expression as he regarded him, Marco knew that if Juri refused to help him then he was doomed.  The young man held no illusions that if he returned to the tower, that his life would be forfeit – Garufo would see to that; and his demise would be neither quick nor painless.  If he thought that the cruelty that he had suffered at the man's hands in the past few weeks had been bad, the dark-haired man was doubly sure that Garufo would make sure that he suffered greatly before he died.  Selanne was his last chance – his lifeline – and Marco would do anything to gain the man's help.

            The dark-haired apprentice felt the tears well in his eyes and he desperately tried to hold them back.  "I've made some horrible mistakes, Juri, I know that.  But . . . but I didn't have any choice.  Garufo would have killed me . . . it didn't seem like such a hard thing to do at first, but . . . but I got to know Folken and when I tried to tell him that I couldn't do it . . ." Marco trailed off as his voice shook with memories of what Garufo had done to him when the young man had tried to escape from his clutches.

            Taking several deep breaths to regain his composure, Marco tried once more.  "Please Juri . . . I'll get on my knees and beg you if that's what you want.  It's not like I have anything left to lose . . . just please, please don't let him get me – kill me yourself if you want, at least I know you won't enjoy it and make me suffer."    Unable to hold them back any longer, the tears started down the young man's cheek.  "Maybe I should just go to Folken – I know he probably can't wait to run me through."  Marco bent his head and continued to weep.

            Juri Selanne sighed and shook his head.  The older man had always found Garufo to be a sadistic cunning man; a man who would use anyone and any means to advance his position within the tower.  The man's love of inflicting pain as a means to sexual gratification was well know and made Selanne sick to his stomach to think of it.  He wondered how many other young men Garufo had taken and broken, just as he had done to Marco Dimetra; and as he looked at the crying young man in front of him, the sorcerer made his decision.

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            His elbow propped on the arm of the chair, Folken Lacour pressed his fist to his forehead and closed his eyes.  The slow throbbing pain behind his eyes had started after he had left Marco Dimetra's empty rooms the night before, and as he had sat brooding and thinking through the night, it had not lessened.  Right after daybreak, the young outlander had resumed his search of the tower grounds for the missing apprentice but to no avail.  The most that he had been able to discover was that Marco had hurriedly left through the front gate the afternoon before and had not been seen since.  Despite his anger over the dark-haired man's betrayal, Lacour found himself wondering if Marco were alright.  The young man still could not shake the terrified look on Dimetra's face from his mind; and the more he thought on it, Folken began to believe that the other man had fled in fear of his life.

            Sitting back in the chair, Folken let his hand fall into his lap as he titled his head up and against the chair back.  He felt completed drained, emotionally and physically.  He had not eaten since breakfast the day before and had not slept at all during the night.  His mind was nothing but a chaotic mess, as all the events in his life from the past three years swirled through it.  Every joy and every sorrow that he had experienced since coming to Zaibach had been relived as he sat in the darkness of his quarters, oblivious to anything else around him.  Yet always his mind would return to the same two things – Jindra and Marco – the both of them looking up at him with haunted, tear-filled eyes; and more than once, Folken found the wetness from his own tears coursing down his cheeks.

            It was some time later when the young outlander fell into an exhausted, but fitful sleep.

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            Letting the drapes fall closed, Jindra watched the carriage as it pulled away.  Doreena had been on the verge of canceling the standing afternoon tea invitation to stay home with her daughter, but Jindra had finally managed to convince her to go on without her.  The young woman wasn't up for company and she wanted nothing more than to be alone while she struggled to sort out her feelings regarding both her new husband and the accident that took her brother's life.

            With a weary sigh, Jindra curled up on the sofa and leaned her head on the armrest.  Looking into the flames in the fireplace, she let the warmth settle over her while she thought.  Closing her eyes, the young woman felt the tears as they welled and she let them fall unheeded – all the sadness and betrayal that she felt washing over her like a wave.  

            _What am I supposed to do now?  Gods, I hate you Folken – how could you do this to me?_

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           The items on the desktop hit the floor with a crash as Garufo's arm swept them aside.  His anger burning in his dark eyes, the sorcerer turned away from the desk and looked out the window.  His plan – his wonderful, carefully orchestrated plan to bring down Folken Lacour looked like it was on the verge of unraveling.  True, the girl had fallen into Anton Lefebvre's hands and had learned that her lover had been responsible for her brother's death; but she had also seen through the former cadet's intentions and turned against him.  Marco Dimetra had also inexplicably disappeared after nearly ruining the entire scheme and Garufo had been unable to discover his whereabouts as of yet.

            _So many loose ends_ . . .  the man shook his head.  Loose ends were something that Garufo hated, and he was especially worried now; for despite her reaction, Garufo feared that Jindra Roh would eventually forgive Lacour and perhaps try to mend their broken relationship.  With Dimetra running loose, that possibility seemed to grow.  No doubt Dimetra would be able to convince the girl to do just that, were he given half the chance to tell her what had really happened.

            Anton Lefebvre had also become another loose end that had started to fray and Garufo had serious doubts about the young man's sanity anymore.  Lefebvre had become quite unpredictable in recent weeks, his drinking becoming heavier and his obsession with Jindra Roh even stronger.  After the girl's blatant rebuff and condemnation, Anton's behavior had become even more erratic – not that Garufo hadn't goaded him and used it to his advantage – but the sorcerer knew that Lefebvre would have to be taken care of sooner or later, when his usefulness had finally come to an end.

            _Lefebvre . . . Demitra . . . Jindra Roh . . ._ yes, loose ends that would have to be tied up and quickly.  As he looked down into the courtyard below him, a cold predatory smile began to spread across his face as a plan started to form in his mind. 

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_Author's Note:  Wow – look, I'm not dead after all.  This has been a long time coming, I know; but unfortunately the "real world" hasn't been too cooperative where my writing has been concerned. Between work, hockey season, and getting involved in an on-line RPG (and ending up being one of the co-mods), it seems like I just haven't had the time to write.  Hopefully, things are back on track and I'll be trying to finish this monster and add to some of my other fics.  Thanks to everyone who has been reading; and although this is only one chapter, the next one won't be too long in coming.  _


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